GIFT  OF 


;  "•••^ 


VIEWS 


ON 


VEXED  QUESTIONS. 


BY 

WILLIAM   W.  KINSLEY. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

J.   B.   LIPPINCOTT   &  CO. 

1881. 


Entered,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1881,  by 

W.  W.   KINSLEY, 
in  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington,  D.C. 


Ac*- 


TO    HEK 

WHO  WILL   READ   BETWEEN  THE   LINES  A  RECORD  OF  THE 
HOME-LIFE  AT   INGLESIDE, 

THIS   VOLUME, 

AS  A  SOUVENIR, 

IS  AFFECTIONATELY  DEDICATED 
BY    THE    AUTHOR 


308845 


CONTENTS. 


PART  FIRST. 

PA  OR 

THE  SUPERNATURAL  9 

MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN 89 

WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN?  ....     151 

» 

PART  SECOND. 

SATAN  ANTICIPATED 191 

THE  KEY  TO  SUCCESS 231 

SHELLEY       ..........  255 

THE  BRONTE  SISTERS  303 


PAET    FIRST. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL. 

MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN. 

WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN   RACE   BEGIN? 


THE  SUPERNATURAL. 


DRIFT  OF  MODERN  THOUGHT. 

THE  laws  of  nature,  which  are  by  many  erroneously 
considered  self-operating  entities,  are  simply  the  names 
of  methods  of  working.  The  vitalizing  forces  them- 
selves are  hidden  behind  an  impenetrable  veil  of  mys- 
tery. Of  the  certain  existence  of  secret  somethings 
wholly  distinct  from  the  particles  of  matter  wrapped 
up  within  the  folds  of  germs  or  within  the  faces  of 
crystals  we  have  palpable  proofs  in  phenomena,  but 
the  most  searching  scientific  analysis  has  never  yet 
lifted  or  rent  the  veil.  We  think  we  account  by 
gravity  for  the  rush  of  the  avalanche  and  the  tides  of 
the  sea.  Hydrogen  and  oxygen  embrace  at  the  touch 
of  fire,  and  we  call  it  chemical  affinity.  Frost  utters 
some  potent  spell  over  the  particles  of  a  water-drop 
and  they  fall  into  line  and  effect  symmetrical  combina- 
tions with  the  precision  of  drilled  infantry,  and  we 
flatter  ourselves  we  have  solved  the  riddle  when  we 
christen  it  crystallization.  Kernels  of  wheat  taken 
from  the  hand  of  an  Egyptian  mummy,  where  they 
had  lain  through  the  long  roll  of  three  thousand  years 
seemingly  dead,  when  dropped  into  the  earth  were 

9 


ig  '•,  ;  VIEW'S  ON   7  EX  ED    qUESTIONS. 

found  filled  with  skilled  alchemists  who,  in  unknown 
proportions  and  by  unknown  processes,  compounded 
in  their  crucibles  ingredients  of  dew,  air,  soil,  and  sun- 
light. That  there  should  have  been  power  left  to  pro- 
duce vegetable  cell-growth  after  this  death-like  sleep  of 
thirty  centuries  we  may  well  pronounce  a  mystery,  but 
what  that  was  which  slept  and  in  its  waking  goldened 
the  fields  with  grain  again  is  a  mystery  infinitely 
greater.  Two  embryos  so  minute  as  scarcely  to  be 
discernible  to  the  naked  eye,  their  points  of  difference 
seldom,  if  ever,  detected  even  when  placed  in  the  focus 
of  the  microscope,  will,  when  favorably  circumstanced, 
develop,  one  into  a  winged  butterfly,  the  other  into  a 
bounding  tiger:  why,  none  can  tell. 

Among  the  lower  orders  of  creation  are  exhibitions 
of  a  wisdom  absolutely  perfect  in  prescribed  spheres, 
existing  prior  to  experience  and  independent  of  the 
aids  of  instruction.  Men  partially  attain  by  protracted 
efforts  and  after  multiplied  failures  what  insects  and 
brutes  reach  at  a  single  bound.  The  ultimate  nature 
of  this  animal  instinct,  the  methods  of  its  creation  and 
maintenance,  its  springs  of  action,  its  final  destiny,  are 
among  the  subtilest  of  the  secrets  that  hide  behind  the 
manifestations  of  the  outer  world.  Philosophy  has 
long  sought  for  them,  but,  baffled  and  blinded,  it  now 
stands  with  uncovered  head  in  the  presence  of  their 
phenomenal  glory.  We  indeed  meet  mystery  in  the 
very  instrument  we  use  for  the  search,  in  that  intro- 
vertive  power,  self-consciousness,  that  ego  seemingly 
sitting  apart,  recognizing  and  judging  thought-processes, 
even  attempting  an  analysis  of  itself. 

To  the  ancients  nature  seemed  a  chaos  of  conflicting 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  H 

forces.  Their  mythologies  bear  traces  of  the  perplexity 
and  awe  with  which  they  witnessed  her  phenomena. 
Knowing  comparatively  nothing  of  the  systematic  pre- 
cision of  her  laws,  possessed  of  an  intuitive  religious 
belief,  and  daily  experiencing  that  each  man's  body  is 
in  subjection  to  a  distinct  intelligence  with  whose  indi- 
viduality it  can  by  no  intimacy  ever  become  merged, 
they  readily  reasoned  that  every  outside  object  was  but 
the  incarnation  of  some  divinity.  Hence  to  the  Scan- 
dinavians rivers,  rocks,  and  soil  were  the  blood,  bones, 
and  muscles  of  Imer.  The  Giants,  the  Cyclops,  and 
the  Titans  were  the  three  classes  of  deities  into  which 
the  Greeks  divided  the  elemental  forces.  Rivers  and 
fountains  were  considered  active  personalities  and  Avor- 
shipped  as  divine.  JEschyltis,  in  one  of  his  tragedies, 
introduced  the  fountains  as  pitying  the  chained  Prome- 
theus and  complaining  of  Jove's  tyranny.  We  to-day 
may  call  this  simply  fine  poetic  personification.  It 
was  once  believed  in  as  stern  realism.  Enceladus  was 
the  fire-god  of  the  hills.  The  rock  and  the  whirlpool 
in  the  Straits  of  Messina  were  rapacious  sea-monsters; 
kingfishers  were  the  winged  spirits  of  Ceyx  and  Hal- 
cyone,  whose  presence  calmed  the  tempest.  Iris  was 
embodied  in  the  rainbow,  and  when  the  sky  was  lit 
with  her  bent  beauty  she  was  on  an  errand  of  peace  to 
the  dying  to  break  the  flesh-fetters  of  the  soul.  While 
they  thus  believed  in  the  incarnation  of  deities  in  the 
different  objects  of  nature,  they  entertained  a  kindred 
though  conflicting  notion  that  these  objects  were  simply 
kingdoms  subject  to  their  control.  Nereus  and  his 
fifty  beautiful  nymph  children  lived  in  crystal  sea- 
palaces  and  were  governmental  ministers  to  Neptune. 


12  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

Not  a  condition,  not  a  change  in  the  world  of  the  senses, 
not  a  mental  phantasm,  branch  of  industry,  past  event, 
dreaded  retribution,  or  unfulfilled  desire,  but  was  be- 
lieved, if  enveloped  in  mystery,  to  be  in  the  immediate 
presence  and  subject  to  the  direct  control  of  the  gods. 
Indeed,  in  that  early  day  -the  Divine  influence  was 
judged  by  mankind  to  be  as  potent  and  pervasive  as 
light  and  air.  The  top  of  Olympus  disappeared  above 
the  clouds,  and  in  consequence  was  considered  the  place 
where  Jupiter  held  court.  The  Styx,  a  river  in  Arca- 
dia, from  being  impregnated  with  fatal  poisons  and 
suddenly  sinking  from  sight,  was  supposed  to  roll 
through  the  dominions  of  Pluto,  its  black  current 
forming  between  this  and  the  other  life  a  barrier  im- 
passable except  to  Charon  the  boatman  and  departed 
souls  who  could  pay  the  fare  of  the  ferry.  The  Garden 
of  the  Hesperides,  the  Elysium  of  the  Greek  fancy 
where  the  golden  apples  grew,  lay  just  beyond  the 
line  of  the  horizon,  because  that  then  constituted  the 
boundary  of  the  known. 

A  vital  change  has  since  marked  man's  interpreta- 
tions of  nature.  Science  now  boldly  analyzes  what 
was  once  worshipped  as  divine.  An  insatiable  curiosity 
now  pries  into  secrets  which  long  escaped  examination 
through  an  undue  religious  awe.  Forces  that  were 
supposed  to  be  in  chaotic  conflict  have  been  found  cor- 
related, working  by  fixed  methods  and  perfecting  dif- 
ferent parts  of  a  single  plan.  In  short,  the  vagaries 
of  a  superstitious  fancy  have  happily  given  place  to 
the  more  careful  discriminations  of  an  informed  reason. 
Astronomers  have  catalogued  the  stars,  foretold  eclipses, 
weighed  planets  and  suns,  thrown  a  measuring-line 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  13 

about  the  rings  of  Saturn,  disentangled  with  their  tele- 
scopes the  light  of  nebulae,  computed  the  distances  and, 
with  the  aid  of  the  lately-invented  spectroscope,  even 
the  rates  of  speed  of  some  of  the  fixed  stars.  Com- 
parative anatomists  have  arrived  at  such  extensive  and 
accurate  knowledge  of  the  laws  that  govern  in  the 
structure  of  animal  organisms  that  they  can  determine 
from  single  bones  the  species,  general  structure,  habits, 
and  homes  of  those  of  which  they  once  formed  part. 
Chemists,  by  retort  and  crucible,  have  unmasked  the 
elements,  and  discovered  the  conditions  that  unfetter 
their  forces.  Geologists  have  so  diligently  studied  the 
leaves  of  the  stone  record,  turned  by  the  fingers  of  earth- 
quakes, that  they  have  carried  the  torch  of  knowledge 
beyond  the  drift,  past  the  mammal,  the  reptile,  and  the 
fish,  back  of  the  forests  of  fern,  back  even  of  the  birth 
of  continents,  the  break  of  day,  or  the  breath  of  life.  . 
There  is  something  imposing  in  the  aggressive  spirit 
of  the  present.  There  is  a  dash,  a  boldness,  a  persist- 
ency in  investigation  never  before  known.  Intricacies 
and  perils  act  as  incentives.  Every  field  of  thought 
is  undergoing  systematic  research.  Every  day  uncov- 
ers some  secret.  The  sun,  despite  its  blinding  splen^ 
dor,  has  been  forced  to  furnish  photographs  of  itself 
and  submit  to  a  chemical  analysis  of  its  atmosphere. 
The  dangerous  ice-fields  of  the  North  have  proved 
irresistible  charms  thrown  about  the  open  polar  sea. 
Not  long  after  the  intrepid  Kane  brought  back  news 
that  he  had  caught  the  gleam  of  its  waves  as  they 
broke  ice-free  in  the  sunlight,  the  American  Congress, 
swept  along  by  this  strong  tide  of  the  times,  equipped 
a  corps  of  scientists  in  hope  that  they  might  force 


14  VIEWS  ON    VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

their  way  a  few  leagues  farther  into  the  desolate  realms 
of  frost. 

Two  threatening  evils  are,  however,  becoming  mani- 
fest in  the  midst  of  this  universal  quickening  of  the 
intellect  which  lias  resulted  from  such  eager  search  for 
secrets,  and  they  can  be  directly  traced  to  these  very 
conquests  of  scientific  research  of  which  we  are  so 
justly  proud. 

The  first  is  the  decline  of  poetic  taste.  This  has 
become  emphatically  a  utilitarian  age,  an  age  of  inven- 
tions. By  a  careful  analysis  and  classification  of  phe- 
nomena we  have  not  only  discovered  that  natural 
forces  work  by  fixed  laws,  but  have  determined  in 
great  measure  what  those  laws  are,  and  to  utilize  this 
knowledge  has  become  the  master-purpose  of  modern 
thought.  This  passion  has  indeed  grown  so  intense  that 
the  ideal  world  has  been  rapidly  lapsing  into  neglect. 
We  may  rightly  glory  in  our  steamships,  railroads, 
telegraphs,  and  printing-presses.  To  flash  an  idea 
through  three  thousand  miles  of  ocean  cable,  to  trans- 
port passengers  by  steam-carriages  from  New  York  to 
San  Francisco  in  a  week,  to  tunnel  the  Alps,  to  link 
the  Mediterranean  to  the  Red  Sea  by  a  ship-canal,  thus 
bringing  the  wealth  of  the  Indies  to  the  very  doors  of 
civilized  life,  are  no  mean  triumphs  of  the  mind.  I 
would  not  decry  their  importance,  but  they  will  be 
costly  triumphs  if  through  their  influence  the  earth 
comes  to  be  viewed  merely  as  a  magazine  of  physical 
comforts,  its  mountains  to  be  valued  only  for  their 
gold-bearing  quartz  and  its  prairies  for  their  fields  of 
standing  corn.  It  was  designed  for  something  higher 
than  to  serve  simply  as  man's  workshop  or  his  dining- 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  15 

hall.  There  are'in  nature  subtiler  secrets  than  those 
solved  by  experiments  in  physical  science,  whose  un- 
veiling will  demand  and  develop  grander  powers  and 
render  a  much  more  exalted  service  to  mankind. 

The  decline  of  the  religious  sentiment  is  the  second 
evil  resulting  from  this  increase  of  knowledge.  Many 
of  the  divinities  of  the  ancient  mythology  have  been 
found  but  vague  personifications  of  mysteries  which 
have  since  yielded  to  scientific  analysis.  The  discovery 
that  the  forces  in  nature  are  conditional,  working  by 
fixed  methods,  has  given  birth  to  bold  theorists  who 
stoutly  contend  that  all  force  is  a  constituent  element  of 
matter  and  that  matter  is  eternal,  thereby  eliminating 
God  from  the  universe.  La  Place,  a  supposed  tower  of 
strength  in  mathematical  astronomy,  seizing  upon  the 
suggestions  of  Sir  William  Herschel,  propounded  in  the 
interests  of  atheism  what  is  now  known  as  the  Nebular 
Hypothesis.  In  this  he  claims  it  possible  that  the 
worlds  originated  in  a  vastly  diffused  homogeneous  fire- 
mist;  that  some  of  its  particles  cooling  and  condensing 
sooner  than  others  began  to  attract  the  lighter  ones, 
which,  deviating  from  a  straight  course  because  of  the 
resistance  they  encountered  from  each  other,  were  thrown 
into  a  spiral  motion  which  was  finally  communicated  to 
the  entire  mass  ;  that  from  this  mass  rings  were  succes- 
sively disengaged  and  condensed  about  nuclei  into  suns 
from  which  rings  were  broken  and  condensed  jnto  planets, 
and  from  these  planets,  which  were  suns  until  by  irra- 
diation their  flame-billows  were  cooled  and  crusted  with 
continents  and  seas,  rings  were  again  broken  and  con- 
densed into  moons.  Evolutionists  still  further  assert 
that  out  from  this  dead  matter  thus  separated,  solidified, 


16  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

and  grouped  into  systems  there  have  been  evolved  by 
the  operation  of  natural  laws  through  successive  grades 
of  progression  all  the  multiform  manifestations  of  vege- 
table and  animal  life, — tracing  human  genealogy  back 
to  infusoria,  and  claiming  that  these  at  the  first  were 
but  the  spontaneous  product  of  chemical  action.  Her- 
bert Spencer  in  his  "  First  Principles"  expressly  states 
that  "  those  modes  of  the  unknowable  which  we  call 
motion,  light,  heat,  and  chemical  affinity  are  alike  trans- 
formable into  each  other  and  into  those  which  we  dis- 
tinguish as  sensation,  emotion,  and  thought,  solar  heat 
being  the  final  source  of  the  force  manifested  by  society." 
It  is  claimed  by  this  school  of  philosophy  that  appetites 
and  passions  are  but  attractions  akin  to  that  of  an  acid 
for  an  alkali,  that  even  actions  of  will  are  but  chemical 
changes  necessarily  accompanying  a  particular  organi- 
zation of  nervous  matter.  Professor  Huxley,  though 
repudiating  any  sympathy  with  Comte  and  the  Posi- 
tive Philosophy,  in  a  paper  on  the  "  Physical  Basis  of 
Life,"  which  has  lately  attracted  considerable  attention 
in  scientific  circles,  holds  that  protoplasm,  consisting  of 
carbon,  hydrogen,  oxygen,  and  nitrogen  in  complex 
chemical  union,  is  the  very  matter  and  basis  of  all  life. 
He  also  claims*  that  the  properties  of  this  protoplasm, 
like  those  of  water,  are  simply  the  result  of  the  nature 
and  disposition  of  its  molecules.  Professor  Tyndall,  in 
his  chapter  .on  Vitality,  near  the  close  of  his  "  Frag- 
ments of  Science,"  remarks,  "  Are  the  forces  of  organic 
matter  different  in  kind  from  those  of  inorganic  ?  The 
philosophy  of  the  present  day  negatives  the  question. 

*  Lay  Sermons,  p.  138. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  17 

It  is  the  compounding  in  the  organic  world  of  forces 
belonging  equally  to  the  inorganic  that  constitutes  the 
mystery  and  the  miracle  of  vitality.  The  tendency, 
indeed,  of  modern  science  is  to  break  down  the  wall  of 
partition  between  the  organic  and  inorganic,  and  to  re- 
duce both  to  the  operation  of  forces  which  are  the  same 
in  kind  but  whose  combinations  differ  in  complexity. 
Consider  now  the  question  of  personal  identity  in  rela- 
tion to  this  of  molecular  form."  After  speaking  of  the 
continual  waste  and  renewal  of  the  body,  he  continues, 
"  How  is  this  sense  of  personal  identity  maintained 
across  this  flight  of  molecules  ?  To  man  as  we  know 
him  matter  is  necessary  to  consciousness ;  but  the  matter 
of  any  period  may  be  all  changed  while  consciousness 
exhibits  no  solution  of  continuity.  Like  changing  sen- 
tinels, the  oxygen,  hydrogen,  and  carbon  that  depart 
seem  to  whisper  their  secret  to  their  comrades  that  arrive, 
and  thus,  while  the  non-ego  shifts,  the  ego  remains  intact. 
Constancy  of  form  in  the  grouping  of  the  molecules, 
and  not  constancy  of  the  molecules  themselves,  is  the 
correlation  of  this  constancy  of  perception.  Life  is  a 
wave  which  in  no  two  consecutive  moments  of  its  ex- 
istence is  composed  of  the  same  particles.  Supposing 
then  the  molecules  of  the  human  body,  instead  of  re- 
placing others  and  thus  renewing  a  pre-existing  form, 
to  be  gathered  first-hand  from  nature  and  put  together 
in  the  same  relative  positions  as  those  which  they  occupy 
in  the  body,  that  they  have  the  self-same  forces  and 
distribution  of  forces,  the  self-same  motions  and  distri- 
bution of  motions, — would  this  organized  concourse  of 
molecules  stand  before  us  as  a  sentient,  thinking  being? 
There  seems  no  valid  reason  to  believe  it  would  not. 


18  VIEWS  ON    VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

Or,  supposing  a  planet  carved  from  the  sun  and  set 
spinning  around  an  axis  and  revolving  around  the  sun 
at  a  distance  from  him  equal  to  that  of  our  earth,  would 
one  of  the  consequences  of  its  refrigeration  be  the  de- 
velopment of  organic  forms  ?  I  lean  to  the  affirmative. 
Structural  forces  are  certainly  in  the  mass,  whether  or 
not  those  forces  reach  to  the  extent  of  forming  a  plant 
or  an  animal.  In  an  amorphous  drop  of  water  lie 
latent  all  the  marvels  of  crystalline  force;  and  who  will 
set  limits  to  the  possible  play  of  molecules  in  a  cooling 
planet  ?  If  these  statements  startle,  it  is  because  matter 
has  been  defined  and  maligned  by  philosophers  and 
theologians  who  were  equally  unaware  that  it  is  at  bot- 
tom essentially  mystical  and  transcendental." 

Note  the  doctrine.  Merely  molecular  force  is  de- 
clared sufficient  to  account  for  the  evolution  of  a  molten 
mass  into  a  peopled  world.  It  is  denied  that  vital  force 
exists  as  an  entity  distinct  from  the  molecules  and  their 
forces  which  make  up  the  organism.  Life  is  resolved 
into  a  form, — a  wave,  which  on  the  disintegration  of  the 
body  is  gone  like  a  dream  ;  the  ego  consisting  simply  in 
a  relation  which  non-egos  bear  to  each  other, — an  empty 
impersonation,  a  figment  of  the  fancy.  So  soon  as  the 
testimony  of  self-consciousness  is  thus  impeached,  the 
mind  is  at  once  afloat  in  a  sea  of  doubt,  and  is  finally 
left  to  doubt  whether  it  doubts.  This  doctrine  is  not 
only  a  death-blow  to  morals  and  to  our  hopes  of  im- 
mortality, but  effectually  undermines  the  very  possibil- 
ity of  any  theistic  faith,  for  our  conceptions  of  the  Di- 
vine nature  are  alone  predicable  on  those  of  the  human. 

Thus,  while  the  ancients  believed  that  everything 
was  God,  modern  materialists  are  seeking  to  exclude 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  19 

God  from  everything.  There  is  a  golden  mean  of  belief 
between  the  poetic  pantheism  of  the  past  and  the  mate- 
rialism of  to  day.  The  overshadowing  presence  of  mys- 
tery gave  birth  to  the  one  ;  the  partial  solution  of  it,  the 
other.  A  more  thorough  investigation  will  exhibit  alike 
the  weakness  and  the  strength  of  both.  What  lies  back 
of  gravity,  chemical  affinity,  crystallization,  organic  life, 
brute  instinct,  and  the  human  mind  still  keeps  closely 
veiled.  That  phenomena  are  synonymous  with  God, 
science  has  proved  to  be  the  mere  puerility  of  a  super- 
stitious ignorance ;  that  there  is  no  God  behind  phe- 
nomena, science  will  with  equal  emphasis  prove  to  be 
but  the  proud  presumption  of  an  imperfect  knowledge. 

THE  NATURE  OF   FORCE. 

There  are  among  modern  scientists  wide  differences 
of  opinion  respecting  the  nature  of  force.  Many  regard 
forces  merely  as  mutually  convertible  modes  of  motion, 
and  embrace  in  their  definition  not  only  mechanical  and 
chemical  but  even  all  vital  phenomena.  If  this  be  true, 
then,  as  far  as  our  powers  of  conception  go,  the  existence 
of  spirits  is  a  myth;  matter  is  the  only  real  entity  possible. 
At  first  there  appear  to  be  solid  grounds  for  such  a  faith. 
When  we  witness  cold  iron  by  its  arrest  of  the  black- 
smith's falling  hammer  raised  to  red  heat,  one  force  thus 
instantly  vanishing,  another  as  instantly  taking  its  place, 
we  naturally  infer  that  the  second  is  but  a  changed 
form  of  the  first,  and  that,  as  the  first  is  a  motion  of 
mass  and  the  second  a  motion  of  molecules,  the  second 
is  simply  the  first  distributed.  By  a  parity  of  reason- 
ing, the  same  conclusions  are  reached  in  reference  to  the 


20  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    qUESTIONS. 

other  forces.  As  a  waste  of  brain-tissue  always  accom- 
panies processes  of  thoughts  and  decisions  of  will,  the 
latter  appear  to  be  but  chemical  affinities  or  electrical 
forces  in  other  forms,  and  all,  in  fact,  but  different  mo- 
tions of  matter. 

Other  theorists,  while  they  hold  that  forces  are  thus 
mutually  convertible,  contend  that  they  are  different 
forms  under  which  one  and  the  same  spiritual  entity 
makes  its  appearance.  If  this  be  true,  we  may  per- 
haps infer  the  existence  of  a  God,  but  it  is  at  best  the 
impersonal  god  of  pantheism,  for  a  permanent  person- 
ality, or  even  any,  cannot  be  affirmed  of  a  whole  the 
personalities  of  whose  parts,  by  which  alone  it  is 
known,  are  confessedly  separate  and  perishable.  That 
personal  identity  can  be  destroyed  is  possible,  but  to 
affirm  that  it  is  convertible  involves  an  absolute  con- 
tradiction of  terms.  Faraday,  in  his  remarks  on  the 
"  Conservation  of  Force/'*  says,  "  There  may  be  per- 
fectly distinct  and  separate  causes  of  what  are  called 
chemical  actions,  electrical  actions,  and  gravitating 
actions  constituting  so  many  forces ;  but  if  the  conser- 
vation of  force  is  a  good  and  true  principle  [and  this 
he  most  emphatically  declares],  each  of  these  forces 
must  be  subject  to  it;  none  can  vary  in  its  absolute 
amount,  each  must  be  definite  at  all  times,  whether  for 
a  particle  or  for  all  the  particles  in  the  universe,  and 
the  sum  also  of  the  three  forces  must  be  equally  un- 
changeable. Or  there  may  be  but  one  cause  for  these 
three  sets  of  actions,  and  in  place  of  three  forces  we 
may  really  have  but  one,  convertible  in  its  manifesta- 

*  Youmans's  Collection  of  Monographs  on  "The  Correlation 
and  Conservation  of  Forces,"  p.  379. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  21 

tions."  In  this  same  paper*  he  observes  that  "  the 
commonly  received  idea  of  gravity  appears  to  ignore 
entirely  the  principle  of  conservation  of  force,  and  by 
the  terms  of  its  definition,  if  taken  in  an  absolute  sense, 
'  varying  inversely  as  the  square  of  the  distance/  to  be 
in  direct  opposition  to  it." 

This  apparent  creation  and  annihilation  of  force, 
however,  he  thinks  science  will  some  day  account  for, 
perhaps  by  the  discovery  of  phenomena  proving  that 
the  bodies  whose  attraction  for  each  other  so  mysteri- 
ously comes  and  goes,  experience  exactly  corresponding 
structural  changes,  and  that  thus  conservation  is  main- 
tained. But  this  strange  conduct  on  the  part  of  this, 
one  of  nature's  most  prevalent  forces,  has  occasioned  a 
growing  distrust  in  the  soundness  of  these  theories,  and 
a  new  one  has  accordingly  been  propounded  which  bids 
fair  eventually  to  prevail.  Professor  Tyndall,  perhaps 
its  ablest  advocate,  has  left  us  a  very  clear  statement  of 
it  in  an  article  on  "  The  Constitution  of  Nature"  in  his 
u  Fragments  of  Science."  The  theory,  as  I  understand 
it,  is  briefly  this.  Of  essential  causes  science  has  no 
knowledge,  and  concerning  their  nature  and  ways  of 
working  it  can  safely  make  no  statement.  They  and 
their  phenomena  have,  however,  been  sadly  con- 
founded, and  the  law  of  conservation  has  consequently 
been  falsely  affirmed  of  both.  All  matter  is  supposed 
to  consist  of  elastic  molecules.  When  the  hammer 
strikes  the  bar  of  iron  the  molecules  thus  forced 
together  rebound,  and  being  again  driven  in  again  re- 
bound, and  when  this  vibratory  motion  reaches  a  cer- 

*  Youmans's  Collection,  p.  363. 


22  VIEWS   ON    VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

tain  violence  our  nerves  of  touch  recognize  it  as  heat, 
and,  if  suffered  still  further  to  increase,  it  finally  affects 
our  nerves  of  sight,  the  iron  begins  to  glow.  But  there 
is  here  no  exhibition  of  conservation  of  force  proper, 
for  the  motions  of  mass  and  of  molecules  to  which 
alone  the  law  of  conservation  applies  are  energies,  not 
essential  causes,  the  motions  of  mass  being  the  result  of 
several  forces,  gravity  among  the  number,  the  motions 
of  molecules  being  the  result  of  atomic  repulsion.  The 
attraction  of  gravity  constantly  increases  while  the 
hammer  is  approaching  the  bar,  and  reaches  its  maxi- 
mum the  instant  the  blow  is  struck.  The  increase  is 
a  direct  creation,  so  far  as  science  sees.  On  the  other 
hand,  as  the  bar's  atoms  are  driven  together  by  the 
blow,  a  repellent  power  appears  among  them  which 
thenceforward  constantly  increases  until  it  is  able  to 
hurl  them  back  again.  This  increase  cannot  come  from 
gravity,  for  this  does  not  suffer  from  the  collision  the 
least  diminution  in  either  hammer  or  bar.  At  each 
oscillation  of  the  atoms  force  is  seemingly  both  created 
and  destroyed,  no  one  knows  how. 

Tyndall  remarks,*  "  When  two  atoms  of  hydrogen 
unite  with  one  of  oxygen  to  form  water,  the  atoms  are 
first  drawn  toward  each  other,  they  move,  they  clash, 
and  then,  by  virtue  of  their  resiliency,  they  recoil  and 
quiver.  To  this  quivering  motion  we  give  the  name  of 
heat.  We  must  not  imagine  the  chemical  attraction 
destroyed  or  converted  into  anything  else,  for  the  atoms 
when  mutually  clasped  to  form  a  molecule  of  water  are 
held  together  by  the  very  attraction  which  first  drew 

*  Fragments  of  Science,  p.  30. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  23 

them  toward  each  other,"  He  also  says  in  the  same 
essay,*  "As  regards  convertibility  into  heat,  gravity 
and  chemical  affinity  stand  on  precisely  the  same  foot- 
ing. The  attraction  in  the  one  case  is  as  indestructible 
as  in  the  other.  What  is  meant  in  the  case  of  chemical 
affinity  is  that  the  pull  of  that  affinity,  acting  through 
a  certain  space,  imparts  a  motion  of  translation  of  the 
one  atom  toward  the  other.  The  motion  of  translation 
is  not  heat,  nor  is  the  force  that  produces  it  heat,  but 
when  the  atoms  strike  and  recoil  the  motion  of  trans- 
lation is  converted  into  a  motion  of  vibration,  and 
this  latter  motion  is  heat."  On  the  thirty-first  page 
he  makes  the  general  statement,  "  Of  the  inner  quality 
that  enables  matter  to  attract  matter  we  know  nothing, 
and  the  law  of  conservation  makes  no  statement  re- 
garding that  quality."  Carefully  distinguishing  be- 
tween the  effect  and  the  force  of  gravity,  he  shows 
how  unconsumed  tensions  and  vis  viva,  the  work-pro- 
ducing power  of  a  particle,  constitute  a  constant  quan- 
tity styled  energy,  and  that  to  this  combination,  and  to 
this  alone,  the  law  of  conservation  pertains.  Gravity 
thus  explained  proves  no  exception  to  the  rule. 

I  wish  to  call  special  attention  to  the  ground  here 
taken  by  Professor  Tyndall,  for  his  views  are  now  gener- 
ally conceded  to  be  those  of  the  most  advanced  science. 
He  has  made  the  subject  a  specialty,  has  published  ex- 
tensive treatises  upon  it,  and  his  writings  are  quoted  as 
standard  authority  throughout  the  scientific  world. 

According  to  him,  forces  are  not  simply  mutually 
convertible  modes  of  motion,  neither  are  they  different 

*  Fragments  of  Science,  p.  16. 


24  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

manifestations  of  some  one  force,  but  are  distinct  spirit- 
ual entities,  and  are  each  possessed  of  an  indestructible 
identity.  Of  energies  and  not  of  forces  can  converti- 
bility be  affirmed.  This  gives  us  in  inorganic  nature 
fifty-seven  or  more  individual  elemental  powers,  and, 
however  far  science  peers  into  the  past,  it  can  detect  no 
diminution  of  that  number.  The  homogeneity  of  mat- 
ter and  force,  then,  to  which  Herbert  Spencer  so  con- 
fidently points  as  the  primal  state  out  of  which  has  been 
evolved  the  heterogeneity  of  to-day,  is  all  a  chimera. 
In  the  inorganic  world  there  has  been  no  advance  from 
the  simple  to  the  complex  in  the  ingredients  them- 
selves, but  only  in  their  combinations.  These  particles, 
Avhich  chemists  at  present  call  hydrogen,  oxygen,  car- 
bon, nitrogen,  have  never  been  anything  else  than  what 
they  now  are;  they  have  been  the  dwelling-places  of 
precisely  the  same  wonder-working  spirits ;  not  a 
single  virtue  has  gone  out  of  them,  not  a  single  virtue 
has  entered  in ;  a  thousand  million  years  proving  as 
impotent  as  a  single  fleeting  second  to  effect  any  change. 
If  the  evolutionists  refuse  to  accept  this  theory  of  Tyn- 
dall,  and  persist  in  asserting  the  conservation  of  force 
rather  than  of  energy,  gravity  confronts  them  insisting 
upon  an  explanation,  and  no  system  of  philosophy  can 
long  withstand  the  seemingly  direct  opposition  of  a 
force  acknowledged  to  be  absolutely  universal. 

THE  NEBULAR  HYPOTHESIS. 

The  Nebular  Hypothesis,  as  presented  by  its  modern 
advocates,  rests  on  a  very  insecure  foundation.  Ac- 
cording to  the  American  Cyclopaedia,  it  supposes  the 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  25 

universe  to  have  commenced  as  a  homogeneous  nebula 
and  to  have  experienced  the  following  changes:  mutual 
gravitation  of  its  atoms,  atomic  repulsion,  evolution  of 
heat  by  overcoming  this  repulsion,  molecular  combina- 
tion, heat  set  free  by  this  chemical  action,  radiation  of 
heat,  and  consequent  precipitation  of  binary  atoms  form- 
ing irregular  flocculi ;  finally,  a  rotary  motion  induced 
by  gravity  acting  on  these  irregular  masses. 

If,  at  the  beginning,  there  was  but  one  kind  of 
matter  and  but  the  one  force,  gravity,  the  latter  would 
have  to  change  a  part  of  itself  into  atomic  repulsion 
before  it  could  encounter  it  and  thus  generate  heat. 
This  might  be  considered  a  very  marvellous  feat  for  a 
physical  force.  But  even  suppose  it  possible,  the  par- 
ticles as  they  approach  each  other,  instead  of  losing 
any  of  their  mutual  attraction,  have  it,  as  we  have 
seen,  vastly  increased.  Whence,  then,  comes  the  atomic 
repulsion?  Indeed,  whence  comes  the  increase  of 
gravity?  Here  both  the  initial  force  is  multiplied 
and  another  force  absolutely  created.  On  the  other 
hand,  if  it  is  granted  that  neither  of  these  forces  pre- 
ceded the  other  and  that  neither  can  be  changed  into 
the  other,  what  hinders  us  from  predicating  the  same 
of  the  rest  of  the  elemental  forces  ? 

Not  only  do  the  advocates  of  this  hypothesis  en- 
counter these  perplexities  at  the  outset,  but  the  worlds 
into  which  the  homogeneous  fire-mist  is  finally  rolled 
present  difficulties  equally  formidable.  If  their  theory 
is  true,  the  farther  a  planet  is  from  the  sun,  the  larger, 
the  lighter,  and  the  swifter  it  should  be.  What  are 
the  facts  ?  "  Mars  is  smaller  than  the  Earth,  Uranus 
smaller  than  Saturn,  Saturn  smaller  than  Jupiter, 


26  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

and  Jupiter  succeeds  immediately  to  a  host  of  planets 
which,  on  account  of  their  smallness,  are  almost  im- 
measurable. It  is  true  the  rate  of  rotation  generally 
increases  with  the  distance  from  the  sun,  but  it  is  in 
the  case  of  Mars  slower  than  in  that  of  the  Earth, 
and  slower  in  Saturn  than  in  Jupiter."*  A  few  pas- 
sages farther  on,  Humboldt  remarks,  "  Taking  water 
as  the  unity  of  density,  Mercury  is  6.71 ;  Venus,  5.11 ; 
Earth,  5.44;  Mars,  5.21 ;  Jupiter,  1.32;  Saturn,  0.76  ; 
Uranus,  0.97;  Neptune,  1.25;  the  Sun,  1.37."f  The 
sun,  instead  of  being  denser  than  any  of  its  satellites, 
is  but  one-sixteenth  heavier  than  Neptune,  the  outer 
one,  and  nearly  five  times  lighter  than  Mercury,  the 
inner.  The  comets  and  the  moons  of  Uranus  move 
in  orbits  whose  planes  lie  at  angles  that  flatly  con- 
tradict this  theory,  and,  as  more  than  seven  millions 
of  the  former  visit  our  solar  system  and  are  among  the 
largest  bodies  known,  no  hypothesis  which  their  facts 
oppose  can  long  survive. 

The  spectroscope,  in  its  examination  of  hundreds  of 
nebulae,  lias  indeed  found  many  of  them  to  be,  what 
their  name  purports,  thin  banks  of  nebulous  matter, 
but  without  exception  heterogeneous  in  their  nature, 
while  at  the  same  time  not  sufficiently  so  to  render 
them  fit  building-material  for  any  such  worlds  as  at 
present  exist. 

Against  the  assertion  that  the  universe  is  without 
beginning  in  either  space  or  time,  Dr.  Robert  Patterson 
has  ably  argued  that  a  continuous  cloud  of  nebulous 


*  Humboldt's  Cosmos,  vol.  iv.  p.  425. 
f  Ibid.,  vol.  iv.  p.  447. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  27 

light  would  be  overspreading  the  firmament  were  that 
the  fact.  There  would  be  but  one  unbroken  Milky 
Way  made  up  of  the  blended  light  of  an  infinitude  of 
suns.  It  could  not  be  properly  claimed  that  it  would 
be  impossible  for  light  from  multitudes  of  them  to  have 
yet  reached  us  because  of  their  inconceivable  distance, 
for  since  the  rays  started  out  on  their  journeyings  there 
has  been  an  equally  inconceivable  lapse  of  time.  He 
also  remarks  that  if  the  universe  is  without  bounds  it 
must  be  without  a  common  centre.  We  at  once  see 
that  in  the  supposed  original  homogeneous  nebula  there 
must  have  been  as  many  centres  as  there  were  particles. 
Every  particle  must  have  attracted  every  other  equally, 
and  have  thus  hopelessly  prevented  that  initial  motion 
without  which  the  evolution  of  the  present  irregular 
masses  of  heterogeneous  matter  whirling  through  space 
never  could  have  occurred.  But  to  grant  that  the 
universe  has  bounds  is  as  fatal  to  atheism  as  to  concede 
to  it  a  beginning;  for,  as  the  same  author  observes,  if 
a  reason  can  be  assigned  why  one  portion  of  space  is 
occupied  and  not  another,  that  reason  must  show  a  cause, 
and  that  cause  must  not  only  have  antedated  the  uni- 
verse, but  have  been  sufficient  to  produce  it. 

Sir  David  Brewster  remarks,*  "Mr.  Otto  Struve 
and  Professor  Bond,  of  Cambridge,  Mass.,  have  lately 
studied  with  the  great  Munich  telescope,  at  the  observa- 
tory of  Pulkowa,  the  third  ring  of  Saturn,  which  Mr. 
Lassell,  of  Liverpool,  and  Mr.  Bond  found  to  be  fluid. 
They  saw  distinctly  the  dark  interval  between  this  fluid 
ring  and  the  two  old  ones,  and  even  measured  its  dimen- 

*  More  Worlds  than  One,  p.  27. 


28  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

sions ;  and  they  perceived  at  its  inner  margin  an  edge 
feebly  illuminated,  which  they  thought  might  be  the 
commencement  of  a  fourth  ring.  These  astronomers 
are  of  opinion  that  the  fluid  ring  is  not  of  very  recent 
formation,  and  that  it  is  not  subject  to  rapid  change ; 
and  they  have  come  to  the  extraordinary  conclusion 
that  the  inner  border  of  the  ring  has  since  the  time  of 
Huygens  been  gradually  approaching  the  body  of 
Saturn,  and  that  we  may  expect  sooner  or  later  to  see 
the  rings  united  with  the  body  of  the  planet."  If  this 
1)6  true,  the  fact,  to  say  the  least,  is  quite  damaging  to 
the  Nebular  Hypothesis. 

Against  this  Hypothesis  stands  also  the  celebrated 
law  of  Carnot.  Helmholtz,  in  his  "  Introaction  of 
Natural  Forces,"*  thus  states  it :  "  Only  when  heat 
passes  from  a  warmer  to  a  colder  body,  and  even 
then  only  partially,  can  it  be  converted  into  mechanical 
work."  An  equilibrium,  therefore,  is  constantly  being 
approached,  the  warmer  bodies  imparting  their  heat  to 
the  colder.  Energy  under  new  forms  is  constantly  ap- 
pearing, but  only  a  part  of  this  can  be  reconverted  into 
heat,  and  only  a  part  of  the  resultant  heat  can  be 
turned  again  into  energy.  A  state  of  rest  is  approach- 
ing, otherwise  perpetual  motion  would  be  possible  in 
nature, — an  achievement  of  course  utterly  out  of  the 
reach  of  realization,  for,  to  illustrate,  if  a  weight  by 
its  fall  could  turn  a  wheel  and  the  wheel  raise  a  weight 
equal  to  the  first  one,  then  that  weight  would  prove  to 
be  heavier  than  itself.  Helmholtzf  justly  claims  that 
in  order  to  have  the  planetary  system  eternal  the 

*  Youmans's  Collection,  p.  228.  f  Ibid.,  p.  242. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  29 

worlds  must,  first,  be  solid,  and,  second,  must  whirl 
in  perfect  vacuum.  The  behavior  of  Encke's  comet 
indicates  that  the  latter  is  not  true;  and  as  to  the 
former,  our  own  earth  is  largely  fluid ;  there  are  signs 
of  water  on  Mars;  indeed,  the  sun,  Venus,  Mars, 
Jupiter,  and  Saturn  are  held  by  astronomers  to  be 
enveloped  by  an  atmosphere.  "The  motion  of  tides 
produces  friction,  all  friction  destroys  vis  viva,  and  the 
loss  in  this  case  can  only  affect  the  vis  viva  of  the  planet- 
ary system.  We  come  thereby  to  the  unavoidable 
conclusion  that  every  tide,  although  with  infinite  slow- 
ness, still  with  certainty,  diminishes  the  store  of  me- 
chanical force  in  the  system;  and,  as  a  consequence, 
the  rotation  of  the  planets  around  their  axes  must 
become  more  slow ;  they  must  therefore  approach 
the  sun,  and  their  satellites  must  approach  them." 
Speaking  of  the  sun's  heat,  he  remarks*  that  "the 
inexorable  laws  of  mechanics  indicate  that  its  store 
of  force  which  can  only  suffer  loss  and  not  gain  must 
be  finally  exhausted." 

The  universe,  consequently,  must  at  last  become  a 
single  mass  of  motionless  matter  unless  new  energy  is 
introduced  into  it  from  without ;  and  if  it  is  true  that 
it  is  approaching  its  end  it  must  be  equally  true  that  it 
has  had  a  beginning. 

Dr.  Bushnell,  in  an  article  on  "  Progress,"  forcibly 
argues  that  common  sense  itself  has  been  outraged  by 
the  theory  that  the  present  system  of  progression  ex- 
tends back  in  an  unbroken  series  infinitely.  However 
slow  the  advancement,  perfection  must  have  been 

*  Youmans's  Collection,  p.  245. 


30  VIEWS   ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

readied  numberless  times,  for  eternity,  though  past,  is 
no  less  an  endless  duration,  and  what  finite  ideal  could 
still  be  unfulfilled  if  toward  it  an  infinite  number  of 
approaches  have  already  been  made?  Here  and  there 
a  thinker  apparently  foreseeing  this  dilemma  has,  as  he 
observes,  taken  refuge  behind  the  assertion  that  nature 
by  some  law  of  its  own  runs  in  cycles,  returning  into 
itself  by  as  many  relapses  as  it  makes  advances.  But 
this  is  no  real  progress,  but  is  simply  the  monotonous 
vibrations  of  a  pendulum.  Humboldt  in  his  "Cos- 
mos" and  Spencer  in  his  "  First  Principles"  advocate 
this  vieAV,  but  the  vast  majority  of  the  philosophers  of 
this  school  stoutly  deny  any  retrogression.  Emerson 
in  his  "  Conduct  of  Life"  says,  "  No  statement  of  the 
universe  can  have  any  soundness  which  does  not  admit 
the  ascending  effort.  The  book  of  Nature  is  the  book 
of  Fate.  She  turns  the  gigantic  pages  leaf  after  leaf, 
never  re- turn  ing  one." 

Such  are  some  of  the  seemingly  fatal  flaws  in  the 
foundations  on  which  evolutionists  are  still  busily  build- 
ing an  imposing  biological  superstructure.  To  a  brief 
examination  of  this  edifice  wre  now  turn. 

VITALITY. 

Max  Muller,  in  his  lectures  on  "  Darwin's  Philosophy 
of  Language,"*  tells  us  that  Professor  Haeckel,  the 
most  distinguished  and  strenuous  advocate  of  Darwin- 
ism in  Germany,  claims  that  in  the  present  state  of 
physiological  knowledge  the  idea  of  a  Life-Giver  has 

*  Eclectic  Magazine,  September,  1873,  from  Eraser's. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  31 

become  unscientific;  that  the  admission  of  one  pri- 
mordial form  is  sufficient,  and  that  that  was  a  moner, 
consisting  principally  of  carbon  in  the  form  of  the 
white  of  an  egg,  of  a  chemical  nature  solely,  and  that 
this  moner  is  the  product  of  self-generation. 

I  have  already  quoted  Tyndall  as  claiming  that  there 
would  be  no  valid  reason  for  denying  that  were  the 
molecules  that  compose  the  human  body  gathered  first- 
hand from  nature  and  placed  in  the  same  relative  po- 
sitions and  possessed  of  their  present  molecular  forces 
and  motions,  they  would  stand  before  us  a  sentient, 
thinking  being ;  that  were  our  planet  carved  from  the 
sun  and  set  spinning  around  its  axis  and  in  its  orbit  as 
now,  the  consequence  of  its  refrigeration  would  be  the 
development  of  organic  forms.  "  In  an  amorphous 
drop  of  water/7  he  says,  "  lie  latent  all  the  marvels  of 
crystalline  force ;  and  who  will  set  limits  to  the  possible 
play  of  molecules  in  a  cooling  planet?"  This  is  sub- 
stantially the  ground  taken  by  Spencer,  Huxley,  Bain, 
and  others  of  the  Evolution  school.  When  these  the- 
orists assert  that  no  impassable  gulf  separates  the  in- 
organic from  the  organic,  that  the  forces  of  the  one 
differ  from  those  of  the  other  only  as  one  motion  differs 
from  another,  that  heat  or  electricity  becomes  not  only 
thought,  emotion,  or  action  of  will,  which  are  simply 
the  phenomena  of  the  ego,  but  the  very  ego  itself,  by 
changing  the  motion  of  identically  the  same  matter,  we 
must  hold  them  to  accurate  experimental  demonstration, 
for  the  doctrine  is  a  death-blow  to  everything  noble  in 
aspiration  or  hope. 

It  seems  to  me  that  Tyndall  has  unconsciously  sug- 
gested a  most  powerful  argument  against  the  soundness 


32  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

of  his  own  conclusions.  He  has  championed  the  theory 
that  the  forces  in  the  inorganic  world  are  entities,  not 
mutually  convertible,  maintaining  their  individuality 
intact  under  all  circumstances ;  that  only  energies  are 
interchangeable.  What  hinders  the  same  discrimina- 
tion being  made  in  the  realm  of  vitality  between  ener- 
gies and  forces,  the  one  being  simply  convertible 
motions,  the  other  inconvertible  entities,  concerning 
whose  nature  science  can  safely  make  no  statement  ? 
As  far  as  I  can  see,  precisely  the  same  arguments 
apply. 

Dr.  Carpenter,  President  of  the  Royal  Society  of 
England  and  member  of  the  French  Academy,  in  his 
article  on  the  "  Correlation  of  Physical  and  Vital 
Forces,"*  states  that  "the  best  physiologists  of  the 
present  day  separate  into  a  distinct  category  vital  phe- 
nomena, claiming  them  to  differ  in  kind  altogether 
from  those  of  physics  or  chemistry."  They  are  pro- 
duced by  what  he  styles  germinal  capacity,  an  inherent 
hereditary  power  within  the  germ,  an  agency  whose 
office  it  is  simply  'to  direct  in  the  use  of  light,  heat, 
electricity,  and  the  other  elemental  energies,  and  thus 
by  their  help  build  up  matter  into  an  organism  answer- 
ing to  an  ideal  given  it.  The  vital  force  is  supposed 
not  to  supply  a  single  particle  of  energy,  but  only  to 
turn  into  its  own  individual  channel  a  portion  of  what 
it  finds  outside.  The  Arabian  romance  of  the  slave- 
genii  and  the  lamp  here  finds  its  realization.  While 
the  physical  and  chemical  forces  are  subject  to  the 
vital,  the  resulting  energies  assume  entirely  new  feat- 

*  Youmans's  Collection,  p.  402. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  33 

nres ;  but  so  soon  as  the  spell  is  broken  they  become 
as  before.  When  molecules  enter  the  organism  they 
part  with  none  of  their  molecular  forces ;  when  they  go 
out  from  it  they  leave  none  behind ;  while  in  it  those 
forces  continue  as  operative  as  ever,  being  simply  over- 
powered and  directed  for  the  time  being  by  some  sepa- 
rate superior  force,  for  as  soon  as  it  is  gone  at  death's 
coming  they  straightway  set  themselves  at  work  to 
tear  down  what  they  have  until  then  been  forced  to 
build  up  and  maintaip.  These  elemental  genii  are  no 
willing  servants  to  the  lamp,  but  slaves  rather,  ready, 
when  released,  for  riot  and  ruin. 

Herbert  Spencer  not  only  affirms  that  all  the  multi- 
form varieties  in  inorganic  nature  have  been  evolved 
from  strict  homogeneity,  but  he  most  positively  states 
that  the  same  is  true  of  the  still  greater  diversities  in 
the  realms  of  life.  In  his  work  on  "  Progress,"*  he 
says,  "  In  its  primary  stage  every  germ  consists  of  a 
substance  that  is  uniform  throughout  both  in  texture 
and  chemical  composition/'  Whence,  then,  the  succeed- 
ing heterogeneity?  we  may  ask.  It  is  surely  not  the 
result  of  any  one  physical  or  chemical  force,  for  if  sci- 
ence has  proved  anything  it  has  proved  that  a  simple, 
an  element,  as  gold  or  oxygen,  has  no  power  to  change 
itself  or  to  undergo  change  by  being  mixed  only  with 
its  like.  Then  some  force  separate  and  superior  must 
be  at  work.  But  to  grant  this  would  be  fatal  to  his 
philosophy,  for  the  germinal  substance  cannot  be  ho- 
mogeneous Jf  two  or  more  forces  are  lodged  within  it. 
Turning  again  to  TyndalPs  "  Fragments  of  Science," 

*  Page  2. 
3 


34  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

we  find  how  entirely  gratuitous  is  this  statement  of 
Spencer,  although  it  is  one  of  the  foundation-stones  in 
his  system  of  thought :  "  When  the  contents  of  a 
cell  are  described  as  perfectly  homogeneous,  as  abso- 
lutely structureless,  because  the  microscope  fails  to  dis- 
tinguish any  structure,  then  I  think  the  microscope 
begins  to  play  a  mischievous  part.  .  .  .  Have  the  dia- 
mond, the  amethyst,  and  the  countless  other  crystals 
formed  in  the  laboratories  of  nature  and  of  man  no 
structure?  Assuredly  they  have;  but  what  can  the 
microscope  make  of  it?  Nothing.  It  cannot  be  too 
distinctly  borne  in  mind  that  between  the  microscope 
limit  and  the  true  molecular  limit  there  is  room  for 
infinite  permutations  and  combinations."* 

Science  thus  far  has  also  failed  to  bring  to  light  any 
instance  of  spontaneous  generation.  Many  very  inge- 
nious experiments  have  been  made  revealing  new 
truths  in  biology,  but  not  this.  Huxley,  in  his  "  Ori- 
gin of  Species,"  says,  "  Nobody  has  yet  built  up  inor- 
ganic matter  into  living,  organized  proteine,  and  I  sup- 
pose it  Avill  be  a  long  while  before  any  one  does.  A 
distinguished  foreign  chemist  contrived  to  fabricate 
urea,  a  substance  of  a  very  complex  character,  which 
forms  one  of  the  waste  products  of  animal  structures. 
Of  late  years  a  number  of  other  compounds,  such  as 
butyric  acid,  has  been  added  to  the  list.  I  need  not  tell 
you  that  chemistry  is  an  enormous  distance  from  the 
goal  I  indicate."  In  his  article  on  "  Biology"  in  the 
Encyclopaedia  Britannica,  he  affirms  that  "  the  chasm 
between  the  living  and  the  non-living  the  present  state 

*  Page  152. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  35 

of  knowledge  cannot  bridge ;"  and  in  his  "  Introduc- 
tion to  the  Classification  of  Animals"  he  asserts  that 
life  is  the  cause  of  organization,  and  not  organization 
the  cause  of  life.  Yet  this  eminent  scientist,  notwith- 
standing these  frank  confessions,  expresses  the  hope 
that  this  goal  chemistry  will  some  day  attain. 

All  of  what  was  supposed  to  be  spontaneous  genera- 
tion has  been  found  to  come  from  minute  spores,  or 
eggs,  floating  in  the  atmosphere,  which  heat  would  kill, 
or  which  would  lodge  yi  cotton-wool  if  placed  in  the 
mouth  of  the  flask  containing  the  prepared  liquid. 
The  air  is  full  of  u  germ-dust."  Huxley  gives  a  very 
interesting  history  of  the  attempts  of  chemists  in  this 
direction,  showing  how,  on  close  examination,  in  each 
were  found  fatal  defects.  A  fluid  preparation  was 
shut  from  the  outer  air,  as  it  was  thought,  by  being 
inverted  in  a  bed  of  mercury,  and  infusoria  appeared ; 
but  it  was  afterward  discovered  that  the  mercury  was 
fairly  saturated  with  spores.  A  bottle  was  filled  with 
boiled  milk,  and  the  neck  stopped  with  cotton-wool, 
with  the  same  result.  On  further  examination  it  was 
found  that  the  alkali  in  the  milk  protected  the  spores 
from  the  effects  of  the  heat.  The  milk  was  made  ten 
degrees  hotter,  and  no  animalcules  were  developed.  M. 
Pasteur  finally  filled,  with  an  extremely  decomposable 
substance,  a  vessel  having  a  long  S-shaped  neck.  This 
preparation  he  boiled,  and  left  the  bottle  open.  No  life 
appeared,  the  eggs  from  the  outside  air  being  deposited, 
as  afterward  found,  at  the  entrance  of  the  bent  neck. 
The  tube  was  then  broken  off  near  the  vessel,  and  in 
forty-eight  hours  life  was  evolved.  These  and  other 
like  tests  Huxley  regarded  as  settling  the  question  that 


36  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

at  the  time  of  his  writing  no  instance  of  spontaneous 
generation  had  come  to  light.  Dr.  Bastian,  who  has 
indeed  proved  himself  both  earnest  and  able  in  this  field 
of  inquiry,  has  lately  issued  a  second  work,  in  which  he 
claims  that  beyond  all  doubt  he  has  produced  life  from 
chemical  action  solely ;  but  even  his  most  careful  experi- 
ments are  found  far  from  conclusive.  Grant  that  after 
he  had  so  bottled  some  niduses  he  had  to  all  appear- 
ance wholly  excluded  the  outside  air,  and  that  then  he 
had  subjected  them  to  temperatures  reaching  as  high  as 
150°  C.,  and  that  when  the  mixtures  cooled  they 
swarmed  with  life,  yet  this  may  serve  but  to  prove  that 
eggs  when  lodged  in  some  mixtures  will  resist  greater 
heat  than  in  others,  the  absolute  limit  of  such  resistance 
being  yet  a  matter  undetermined. 

Professor  Tyndall  by  a  very  ingenious  contrivance 
recently  obtained  air  which,  by  the  use  of  the  electric 
beam,  he  proved  to  be  free  from  motes.  To  this  air  he 
exposed  infusions  of  every  kind,  animal  and  vegetable, 
after  having  boiled  them  for  five  minutes  in  a  bath  of 
brine  or  oil,  and  in  not  a  single  instance  did  any  micro- 
scopic life  appear.  Portions  of  the  same  infusions,  which 
were  six  hundred  in  number,  when  exposed  to  the  com- 
mon air,  swarmed,  every  one,  with  myriad  life,  show- 
ing that  the  lowest  and  minutest  forms  of  existence 
are  no  exception  to  the  rule  that  life  comes  from  the  egg. 
It  was  supposed  that  the  fact  that  inside  unfertilized 
henVeggs  infusoria  had  appeared,  settled  the  matter, 
until  some  prying  individual  announced  that  he  had 
discovered  the  spores  of  infusoria  deposited  in  the  hen's 
ovary.  Microscopists  have  succeeded  in  tracing  the  en- 
tire life-cycles  of  monads,  and  have  found  them  to  begin 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  37 

and  end  in  the  egg.  These  animalcules  so  closely  ap- 
proximate bacteria  in  form,  structure,  and  size,  though 
somewhat  larger,  that  it  may  be  safely  inferred  that 
they  pass  through  analogous  changes.  The  fact  that 
their  spores  cannot  be  seen  does  not  prove  that  they  do 
not  exist,  for  gum-mastic  may  be  dissolved  in  alcohol 
and  the  solution  so  diluted  with  water  that  the  particles 
of  the  gum,  though  crowding  the  entire  field  of  vision, 
become  absolutely  invisible  even  to  carefully- trained 
eyes  looking  through  the  most  powerful  instrument. 
Science  on  the  questions  of  the  origin,  nature,  and  ulti- 
mate destiny  of  the  physical  and  vital  forces  is  thus 
gradually  growing  conscious  of  her  limitations. 

PANGENESIS. 

The  perplexing  problems  of  biology  have  awakened 
the  profoundest  interest,  not  only  in  philosophers  and 
scientists,  but  in  almost  the  entire  reading  public.  The 
solutions  oifered  reveal  more  or  less  that  same  natural- 
istic bias  already  noted  in  modern  thought;  but,  while 
none  reach  satisfactory  conclusions,  none  are  without 
valuable  suggestions,  out  of  which,  if  properly  com- 
bined, we  believe  satisfactory  conclusions  may  be 
reached.  To  their  consideration  we  now  invite  at- 
tention. 

Darwin  is  not  strictly  an  evolutionist:  Spencer  is. 
The  former's  position  is  briefly  this.  Offspring  inherit 
the  traits  of  their  parents,  with  slight  individual  differ- 
ences. Those  differences  which  help  in  the  struggle 
for  life  are,  through  inheritance,  gradually  intensified 
and  fixed ;  those  which  hinder  disappear.  This  he 


38  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

names  natural  selection.  To  account  for  another  class 
of  phenomena  he  directs  attention  to  the  wellnigh  uni- 
versal warfare  of  rival  lovers,  the  victor  securing  the 
female  and  perpetuating  in  his  progeny  the  traits  which 
won  him  the  battle.  This  he  names  sexual  selection. 
On  these  two  pillars  rests  his  theory  of  the  Origin  of 
Species.  To  explain  the  origin  of  the  individual  he 
offers  Pangenesis,  a  provisional  hypothesis,  which,  for 
the  convenience  of  my  argument,  I  will  consider  first. 
In  this  he  claims  that  each  living  organism  is  com- 
posed of  an  inconceivable  number  of  minute  organic 
atoms  which  he  calls  gemmules.  Each  of  these  has  the 
power  to  reproduce  its  kind.  They  come  from  every 
part  not  only  of  the  present,  living  organism,  but  even 
of  ancestral  ones  back  for  several  generations.  Each 
has  the  power  of  circulating  freely  through  the  entire 
structure.  One  of  every  kind  of  this  inconceivable 
multitude  is  found  in  every  spermatozoon,  that  mys- 
terious, microscopic  animalcule  which  is  supposed  to  be 
the  embodiment  of  germ-life.  In  this  way  he  attempts 
to  account  for  the  fact  that  in  the  lowest  animals  repro- 
duction is  produced  by  budding,  claiming  that,  if  every 
cell  has  the  power  to  reproduce  the  whole  organism  of 
which  it  forms  a  part,  it  must  contain  elements  derived 
from  every  part  of  that  organism.  He  also  thus  at- 
tempts to  account  for  the  reappearance,  in  the  child,  of 
counterparts  of  the  physical,  intellectual,  and  emotional 
peculiarities  of  its  parents.  The  reappearance  of  remote 
ancestral  traits  comes  from  the  final  developing  of 
gemmules  which  have  been  lying  dormant  perhaps  for 
generations.  At  first  glance  this  seems  a  simple  and 
sensible  explanation  of  what  are  undoubted  facts  in 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  39 

nature;  but  will  it  bear  the  test  of  close  analysis  ?  The 
subdivision  of  matter  which  it  demands  does  not  simply 
border  on  the  infinite,  but  is  so  absolutely.  For  though 
he  claims  these  gemmules  to  be  ultimate  organic  atoms, 
they  are  not,  for  he  also  claims  for  them  spontaneous 
subdivision  and  multiplication.  If  thus  divisible,  as 
are  germ-cells,  they  must  be  made  up  of  still  more 
minute  gemmules,  and  these  being  also  divisible  must 
still  be  composed  of  others,  and  so  the  division  must  go 
on  without  end,  the  existence  of  the  original  gemmules  in 
their  absolute  infinitude  thus  becoming  impossible  to  hu- 
man thought.  This  is  the  inevitable  dilemma  into  which 
Darwin  falls,  for  he  is  forced  to  advocate  gemmule-fis- 
sion  or  he  can  lay  no  claim  U>  having  approached  a  hair's 
breadth  toward  the  solution  of  the  mystery  of  individual 
life.  If  a  gemmule  can  ultimately  be  reached  which 
cannot  be  divided, — that  is  to  say,  the  true  gemmule, 
— whence  comes  the  reproduction  by  it  of  a  second? 
It  cannot  come  from  the  first,  for  it  is,  according  to  the 
supposition,  absolutely  indivisible,  while  if  the  first  has 
power  to  breathe  into  a  speck  of  amorphic  matter  an 
organizing  spirit  like  its  own  yet  no  part  of  it,  then 
every  gemmule  must  possess  this  same  creative  energy, 
which  is  the  sole  prerogative  of  Divinity,  each  living 
thing  and  each  infinitesimal  particle  that  composes  it 
thus  becoming  by  turns  creature  and  creator.  Verily 
then  Pan  is  God,  and  Pangenesis  the  genesis  of  God. 
The  critics  of  Darwin  have  not,  as  I  am  aware,  followed 
his  hypothesis  so  far  into  the  regions  of  the  absurd,  but 
I  fail  to  see  how,  under  the  inexorable  laws  of  logic, 
any  different  conclusion  can  be  reached.  By  this 
theory,  instead  of  accounting  for  the  origin  of  the  in- 


40  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

dividual,  Darwin  really  strikes  a  death-blow  at  individ- 
uality. His  invisible  and,  as  I  have  shown,  his  truly 
inconceivable  gemmules  must  each  embody  a  separate 
identity,  if  identity  is  at  all  affirmed.  In  such  a  case 
the  organism  of  which  they  are  ultimate  organic  atoms 
would  be  only  an  aggregation  of  individuals,  an  organ- 
ized cosmos.  But  our  consciousness  affirms  that  in  each 
organism  there  is  but  one  pervading  spirit,  that  this 
spirit  is  a  unit,  indivisible,  dwelling  in  and  at  the  same 
time  apart  from  the  body.  Sever  an  arm,  and  still  the 
personality,  the  egOj  remains  untouched.  The  surgeon's 
knife,  directed  with  all  the  skill  of  surgical  art,  has  no 
power  to  mar  it.  When  Darwin  advocates  gemmule- 
fission,  claiming  that  a  gemmule  can  spontaneously  di- 
vide, forming  two  perfect  gemmules,  each  capable  as 
the  first  to  reproduce  its  kind,  each  precisely  like  the 
first,  having  as  distinct  a  personality  as  that  from  which 
it  came,  he  advocates  a  spontaneous  division  of  the  in- 
dividuality. Now,  if  an  ego  can  divide  itself  infinitely, 
and  thus  make  out  of  itself  an  infinite  number  of  egos, 
our  intuitions  concerning  personality  are  wholly  at  sea, 
for  once  disturb  the  unity  of  the  ego,  take  from  it  in 
the  least,  and  its  only  distinguishing  characteristic,  its 
identity,  is  destroyed.  Professor  Delpino,  who  urges 
in  part  the  above  objection,  remarks  that  should  the  re- 
ply be  made  that  the  separate  existence  of  this  ego,  this 
vital  principle,  was  at  best  problematical,  he  would 
answer  that  this  comes  with  poor  grace  from  an  advo- 
cate of  Pangenesis,  for  it  involves  at  least  four  unproved 
hypotheses, — the  existence  of  the  gemmules,  their  propa- 
gative  affinity,  their  germinative  affinity,  and  their 
multiplication  by  fission. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  41 

This  attempt  of  Darwin  at  the  solution  of  life's  mys- 
tery, like  many  others,  leaves  the  problem  as  it  found 
it.  The  mystery  remains  a  mystery  still.  Each  theo- 
rist professes  to  have  traced  to  its  last  hiding-place 
these  secret  somethings.  The  atom,  the  physiological 
unit,  the  gemmule,  these  are  the  names  given  to  the 
inner  temples  where  these  spirits  dwell.  The  apart- 
ments thus  assigned  them  are  absolutely  inconceivable 
in  their  minuteness,  yet  they  afford  ample  room  and  an 
effectual  hiding-place. 

The  theory  of  Pangenesis  is  offered  as  an  explanation 
of  the  phenomena  of  inheritance.  Even  were  it  true, 
it  gives  no  solution  of  the  source  of  individual  differ- 
ences, dealing  as  it  does  solely  with  the  question  of  the 
transmission  of  likeness.  The  former  arise  no  one 
knows  how,  as  Darwin  frankly  admits,  and  with  this 
admission,  as  Argyll  has  pointed  out,  he  unconsciously 
confesses  that  all  he  has  yet  done  at  the  best  by  his 
three  theories  is  to  account  for  the  perpetuation,  and 
not  the  origin,  of  species;  for,  note,  his  natural  and 
sexual  selection  is  no  more  than  a  choosing  between 
traits  already  mysteriously  originated.  Furthermore, 
how  those  favorable  individual  differences  become  in- 
tensified and  finally  fixed  merely  through  these  choices 
is  still  another  most  perplexing  problem,  of  which  Dar- 
win ventures  no  solution,  contenting  himself  with  offer- 
ing evidence  in  proof  simply  of  its  truth.  But  even 
against  the  soundness  of  this  conclusion  distinguished 
investigators  in  science,  Mivart,  Argyll,  Wallace, 
Thompson,  Miiller,  Lyell,  Huxley,  even  Darwin  him- 
self, have  brought  to  light  many  most  interesting 
and  convincing  facts  and  have  given  us  valuable  aid 

3* 


42  VIEWS  ON    VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

in  their  interpretation.     We  will  glance  at  a  few  of 
them. 

MIMICRIES  IN  NATURE. 

There  are  in  nature  many  remarkable  instances  of 
mimicry  under  whose  shelter  some  animals  take  refuge 
from  deadly  enemies,  others  insidiously  steal  upon  their 
prey. 

Mr.  Wallace  remarks  of  the  leaf-butterfly  which  he 
found  in  Borneo,  "  We  come  to  a  still  more  extraordi- 
nary part  of  the  imitation,  for  we  find  among  butter- 
flies representations  of  leaves  in  every  stage  of  decay, 
variously  blotched  and  mildewed  and  pierced  with 
holes,  and  in  many  cases  irregularly  covered  with  pow- 
dery black  dots  gathered  into  patches  and  spots,  so 
closely  resembling  the  various  kinds  of  minute  fungi 
that  grow  on  dead  leaves  that  it  is  impossible  to  avoid 
thinking  at  first  sight  that  the  butterflies  have  been 
attacked  by  real  fungi."  The  imitation  is  said  to  ex- 
tend through  all  the  metamorphoses  of  the  insect.  The 
eggs  resemble  seeds,  and  the  larva?  bits  of  stalk,  or 
chips,  or  fragments  of  leaves.  Argyll  tells  us  that 
many  species  of  the  genus  Mantis  are  wholly  modelled 
in  the  forms  of  vegetable  growths:  "The  eggs  are 
made  to  imitate  leaf-stalks,  the  body  is  elongated  and 
notched  so  as  to  simulate  a  twig,  the  segment  of  the 
shoulders  is  spread  out  and  flattened  in  the  likeness  of 
a  seed-vessel,  and  the  large  wings  are  exact  imitations 
of  a  mature  leaf,  with  all  its  veins  and  skeleton  com- 
plete, and  all  its  color  and  apparent  texture.  It  is  a 
predaceous  insect  armed  with  most  terrible  weapons 
hid  under  the  peaceful  forms  of  the  vegetable  world. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  43 

It  is  its  habit  to  sit  on  leaves  which  it  so  closely  re- 
sembles, apparently  motionless,  but  really  advancing  on 
its  prey  with  a  slow  and  insensible  approach." 

There  are  some  conspicuously -colored  varieties  of 
butterfly  which  are  exceedingly  unpalatable  and  have 
about  them  an  offensive  odor.  The  more  noticeable 
they  are  the  less  liable  to  be  mistaken  for  those  that  are 
sweet  and  savory  and  the  more  likely  to  be  shunned  by 
the  hungry  bird.  There  are  other  varieties  which  by 
their  imitation  of  the  gaudy  coloring  of  these  and  their 
style  of  flight  pass  themselves  off  for  quite  the  oppo- 
site of  what  they  are.  In  the  English  orange-tip  the 
under  surfaces  of  the  wings  resemble  the  bloom  of  the 
wild  parsley  on  which  it  rests  at  night.  Darwin 
notices*  the  mimicry  of  butterflies  of  both  withered 
and  green  leaves  in  form,  color,  veining,  and  foot-stalk, 
but  passes  it  by  with  the  simple  remark  that  the  color- 
ing has  been  modified  for  purposes  of  protection.  Ac- 
cording to  his  theory,  the  imitation  came  through  in- 
heritance by  slow  degrees.  The  first  was  a  chance 
change  and  the  imitation  very  faint,  but  its  possessor, 
escaping  its  enemies  by  means  of  it,  while  its  less  for- 
tunate comrades  were  devoured,  transmitted  the  pecu- 
liarity to  its  offspring,  and  those  to  which  had  been 
given  the  strongest  protective  likeness  survived,  and 
thus  along  down  the  line  the  imitation  grew  until  the 
present  marvellous  perfection  was  attained.  But  how 
happens  it,  we  may  ask,  that  many  other  kinds,  such 
as  our  Admiral  and  Peacock  varieties,  our  white  cab- 
bage butterflies,  or  the  great  swallow-tailed  Papilio, 

*  Descent  of  Man,  vol.  i.  p.  380. 


44  VIEWS  OX    VEXED   qUESTIONS. 

all   blazing  with   conspicuous   colors/  have   not   been 
favored  with  similar  imitations? 

There  is  a  species  of  moth  of  which  both  sexes  are 
white,  and  these  are  so  distasteful  that  all  feeders,  to 
which  most  moths  are  a  choice  morsel,  will  not  touch 
them.  There  is  another,  the  Cycnia,  whose  females 
alone  imitate  the  appearance  of  these  for  purposes  of 
protection.  As  sexual  selection  is  supposed  by  Darwin 
to  be  inoperative  among  moths,  it  must  be  the  males 
are  denied  this  protective  garb  by  some  power  not  ac- 
counted for  in  his  philosophy.  He  remarks,*  "  If  we 
assume  that  the  females  before  they  became  brightly 
colored  in  imitation  of  some  protected  kind  were  ex- 
posed during  each  season  for  a  longer  period  to  danger 
than  the  males,  or  if  we  assume  that  they  could  not 
escape  so  swiftly  from  their  enemies,  we  can  understand 
how  they  alone  might  originally  have  acquired,  through 
natural  selection  and  sexually  limited  inheritance,  their 
present  protective  colors."  But  what  is  there  to  hinder 
the  males  from  thus  varying  in  favor  of  protection 
through  natural  selection,  and  also  through  that  of  sex- 
ual should  it  chance  to  be  operative,  for  it  too  would 
incline  toward  the  bright  appearance  ?  Grant  the  males 
are  swifter-winged,  yet  they  are  nevertheless  in  great 
danger  and  need  shelter,  and  moreover  the  gayer  their 
garb  the  greater  their  chances  for  success  in  seasons  of 
courtship. 

There  are  lizards  living  upon  the  bare  plains  of  the 
La  Plata  which  are  of  such  mottled  tints  that  when, 
at  the  approach  of  danger,  they  suddenly  shut  their 

*  Descent  of  Man,  vol=  i.  p.  400. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  45 

eyes  and  flatten  their  bodies,  it  is  wellnigh  impossible 
to  tell  where  they  lie.  The  flounder  on  its  upper 
surface  is  speckled  like  the  sand-bars  of  the  sea  on 
which  it  spends  its  days.  A  pipe-fish,  with  its  red- 
dish, streaming  filaments,  is  hardly  distinguishable 
from  the  sea-weed  to  which  it  clings  with  its  pre- 
hensile tail. 

One  of  Darwin's  main  arguments  in  favor  of  the 
theory  that  out  of  brute  life  came  the  human  under  the 
laws  of  natural  and  sexual  selection,  is  the  fact  that 
between  the  two  there  exist  so  many  striking  resem- 
blances. Applying  this  to  the  species  which  possess 
this  protective  mimicry,  we  must  not  only  hold  that  the 
palatable  and  the  nauseous  butterflies  have  a  common 
ancestry,  but  that  the  same  is  true  of  butterflies  and 
leaves,  of  pipe-fish  and  the  red  streaming  weeds  of  the 
sea.  This  argument  of  his  loses  much  of  its  weight 
when  it  is  shown  not  to  be  susceptible  of  universal 
application,  for  if  he  takes  the  liberty  to  explain  any 
of  nature's  resemblances  in  any  other  way  he  must 
accord  to  us  the  same  liberty,  he  must  grant  it  possible 
that  those  resemblances  which  exist  between  brutes  and 
men  may  be  susceptible  of  a  widely-different  interpre- 
tation, that  the  many  points  of  likeness  may  be  ac- 
counted for  simply  by  the  fact  that  they  are  the  product 
of  a  single  designing  mind. 

Darwin  confesses  ignorance  as  to  how  the  imitation 
began,  or  how  it,  step  by  step,  grew  stronger.  He  in 
reality  attempts  to  explain  only  its  subsequent  adoption, 
and  even  to  accomplish  this  he  is  forced  to  summon  to 
his  aid  the  law  of  inheritance,  which  proves  to  be  a 
greater  mystery,  if  possible,  than  the  one  he  is  attempt- 


46  VIEWS   ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

ing  to  fathom,  for  in*different  places  through  his  "De- 
scent of  Man"  he  speaks  of  the  sexual  ornaments  of 
males  being  transmitted  equally  to  both  sexes,  of  their 
being  transmitted  only  to  the  males ;  of  the  protective 
color  and  occasionally  of  the  superior  strength  of 
females  being  in  some  instances  confined  to  them,  in 
others  allowed  to  both,  showing  that  here  is  a  force  the 
methods  of  whose  working  have  thus  far  proved  past 
finding  out.  Seemingly  conscious  of  the  unsatisfactory 
character  of  this  mode  of  interpretation,  he  essays  by 
his  theory  of  Pangenesis  to  throw  light  upon  the  phe- 
nomena of  inheritance,  but,  as  we  have  seen,  this  very 
hypothesis  is  fatally  at  fault,  and  even  were  it  true  he 
has  succeeded  only  in  following  the  mystery  until  it 
vanishes  at  last  within  the  diminutive  walls  of  the 
gemmule. 

COREELATED  GROWTH. 

There  are  phenomena  of  correlated  growth  which 
pointedly  controvert  the  positions  of  both  Darwin  and 
Spencer.  There  are  serial,  bilateral,  and  vertical  cor- 
relations Avhereby  symmetry,  a  correspondence  of  parts, 
is  secured  to  the  organism.  But  there  is  a  profounder 
correlation  than  even  this,  connecting  the  organism 
with  its  environment.  The  first,  as  Argyll  observes, 
suggests  the  working  of  forces  possessing  inherent 
polarity  of  action, — the  other,  adjustment  with  a  view 
to  purpose.  The  exquisite  patterns  of  flowers  and  of 
shells,  the  nice  balancings  of  parts,  noticeable,  in  fact, 
in  nearly  all  organisms,  are  illustrations  of  the  first 
class.  Darwin's  and  Spencer's  explanation  of  the  phe- 
nomena is  that  correspondence  of  parts  comes  from  a 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  47 

like  correspondence  in  the  external  influences.  As 
organisms  are  seldom  out  of  harmony  with  their  sur- 
roundings, it  is  difficult  to  cite  facts  controverting  this 
position,  however  false  it  may  be ;  yet  some  have  come 
to  light  which  are  clearly  of  another  origin.  For  in- 
stance, in  cats,  eyes  with  a  blue  iris  are  found  associated 
with  deafness,  and  a  tortoise-shell-colored  fur  with  the 
female  sex.  There  are  malformations  and  abnormal 
developments  under  what  are  styled  symmetrical  dis- 
eases that  reveal  at  times  very  grotesquely  this  intimate 
relationship.  Darwin  himself  gives  us  instances  of  un- 
usual growth  that  show  correlation.  He  says,  "  In 
several  distinct  breeds  of  pigeons  and  fowls  the  legs 
and  two  outer  toes  are  feathered,  so  that  in  the  trumpeter 
pigeon  they  appear  like  little  wings."  These  feathers 
are  sometimes  even  longer  than  those  of  the  wings,  and 
resemble  them  in  structure.  In  such  cases  tendencies 
appear  for  completing  the  resemblance  by  some  of  the 
toes  growing  together.  A  mechanical  origin  cannot 
well  be  claimed  for  the  serial  homology  displayed  in 
the  development  of  the  worm  Syllis,  dividing  as  it 
does  spontaneously,  a  new  head  with  all  its  complexity 
and  unity  forming  midway  in  the  body  of  the  parent. 
The  issuing  of  the  legs,  wings,  and  eyes  of  Diptera, 
two-winged  flies,  out  of  masses  of  formative  tissue,  and 
the  building  up  of  a  body  and  head  by  their  approxi- 
mation, is  a  process  not  possibly  referable  to  outside  in- 
fluences; neither  is  the  fact  that  the  larva  of  the  Hessian 
fly  gives  rise  to  a  second  within  it  which  bursts  the 
body  of  the  first,  the  second  to  a  third,  the  third  to  a 
fourth ;  neither  is  the  fact  of  the  vertical  completeness 
of  the  bony  pike,  for  it  can  make  no  use  of  it ;  nor,  for 


48  VIEWS  ON    VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

a  similar  reason,  that  of  the  extra  series  of  ossicles  on 
the  outer  side  of  the  paddle  of  the  ichthyosaurus ;  nor 
that  of  each  hand  of  the  eft  having  one  more  finger 
than  his  foot  has  toes. . 

If  Spencer  claims  for  his  "  physiological  units" 
power  to  grow  into  as  perfect  animals  as  those  from 
which  they  sprang,  how  can  he  consistently  pronounce 
incredible  the  evolution  of  nature's  homologies  by  some 
internal,  individual  force?  Murphy,  in  his  work  on 
"  Habit  and  Intelligence,"  remarks  that  in  crystals  form 
or  structure  does  not  depend  on  function,  for  they  have 
none,  and  that  analogous  formative  forces  may  reside 
in  living  organisms.  This  is  especially  evident  among 
radiates  and  mollusks.  The  symmetry  of  their  shells 
is  no  less  wonderful  in  its  perfection  than  that  displayed 
in  salt  or  snow  crystals.  In  the  same  species  of  sea- 
worms,  males  and  females  differ  so  widely  that  natural- 
ists for  a  long  while  mistook  them  for  different  genera 
and  even  families ;  yet  Darwin  admits  that  sexual  selec- 
tion is  not  sufficient  to  account  for  this  wide  variation, 
they  being  too  low  in  the  scale  to  choose  partners  or 
attempt  rivalry.  Natural  selection  surely  cannot  ac- 
count for  it,  for  they  live  amid  similar  surroundings 
and  fight  similar  battles.  There  are  species  of  insects 
in  which  the  male  is  a  fly  and  the  female  a  worm.  To 
have  made  it  possible  for  this  species  to  be  an  offshoot 
of  some  other,  the  changes  effected  by  selections  in  one 
sex  must  have  been  intimately  and  most  mysteriously 
correlated  with  those  in  the  other.  The  simultaneous- 
ness  and  correlation  of  these  changes  are  wholly  unac- 
counted for  in  Darwin's  philosophy.  On  this  point 
Argyll  cites  the  plumage  of  the  humming-birds.  Not 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  49 

only  do  marked  differences  exist  between  the  four  hun- 
dred species,  but  between  the  sexes  of  each  species,  and 
unless  the  variations  occurred  at  the  same  time  and  were 
homologous  between  the  sexes  the  divergence  would 
exhibit  for  a  time  the  phenomena  of  mixture  or  termi- 
nate in  reversion.  Yet  Gould,  a  most  acute  observer, 
declares  that  among  the  thousands  of  specimens  he  has 
examined  he  has  never  yet  found  a  single  case  of  mix- 
ture or  hybridism. 

There  are  phenomena  of  the  second  class  of  correlated 
growth,  those  in  which  a  close  connection  is  discover- 
able between  the  organism  and  its  environment,  which 
must  especially  perplex  these  philosophers  to  explain. 
Among  these  are  the  mimicries  in  nature  which  we  have 
just  been  describing,  such  as  is  seen  in  the  resemblance 
borne  by  the  Mantis  to  the  vegetable  forms  about  it, 
under  whose  show  of  harmless  quiet  it  carries  on  its 
work  of  blood,  such  as  is  seen  in  those  masked  butter- 
flies who  safely  flaunt  their  borrowed  brightness  in  the 
very  face  of  their  enemies,  or  in  others  still  whose 
wings  are  so  serrated,  colored,  veined,  dotted,  and 
pierced  that  they  easily  elude  their  pursuers  by  their 
close  likeness  to  the  withered,  fungi-eaten  autumn 
leaves  attached  to  the  branches  on  which  they  alight, 
or  in  the  semblance  of  the  mottled  tints  of  lizards  and 
flounders  to  the  sands  of  desert  and  sea,  or  the  red, 
streaming  filaments  of  pipe-fish  to  those  water-weeds 
to  which,  under  some  mysterious  influence,  they  cling 
with  their  tails. 

Note  the  case  of  the  poison  of  snakes.   Argyll  states* 

*  Keign  of  Law,  p.  36. 


50  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

regarding  it  that  "  it  is  a  secretion  of  definite  chemical 
properties,  which  have  reference  not  only,  not  even 
mainly,  to  the  organism  of  the  animal  in  which  it  is 
developed,  but  especially  to  the  organism  of  another 
animal  which  it  is  intended  to  destroy.  .  .  .  How  will 
the  law  of  growth  adjust  the  poison  in  one  animal  with 
such  subtle  knowledge  of  the  organism  of  another  that 
the  deadly  virus  shall  in  a  few  minutes  curdle  the  blood, 
benumb  the  nerves,  and  rush  in  upon  the  citadel  of 
life?"  The  electric  battery  of  the  ray  or  torpedo  is  a 
case  equally  in  point.  In  the  second  volume  of  Owen's 
"Lectures  on  Comparative  Anatomy"  it  is  described 
as  composed  of  nine  hundred  and  forty  hexagonal  col- 
umns resembling  honey-comb,  each  of  which  is  subdi- 
vided by  one  of  a  series  of  horizontal  plates  seemingly 
analogous  to  the  plates  of  the  voltaic  pile.  The  whole 
is  supplied  with  an  enormous  amount  of  nervous  matter, 
four  great  branches  of  which  are  as  large  as  the  animal's 
spinal  cord,  and  these  spread  out  in  a  multitude  of 
thread-like  filaments  around  the  prismatic  columns, 
and  finally  pass  into  all  the  cells.  Here  is  presented 
a  threefold  correlation,  embracing  the  organism  of  the 
fish,  the  organism  of  the  enemy,  and  the  nature  of  the 
conducting  medium. 

In  the  fertilization  of  the  orchids  this  class  of  cor- 
relation is  especially  noticeable.  Its  history  is  as  full 
of  the  marvellous  as  an  Arabian  tale.  We  here  find 
contrivances  of  unrivalled  ingenuity,  and  by  their  com- 
plications and  many  nice  adjustments  displaying,  one 
would  think,  beyond  all  possible  cavil,  an  intelligent 
purpose.  Two  or  three  illustrations  will  answer  the 
demands  of  the  argument.  Darwin  relates  of  the  Co- 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  51 

ryanthes*  that  it  has  its  lower  lip  enlarged  into  a 
bucket,  above  which  stand  two  water-secreting  horns. 
These  latter  replenish  the  bucket,  from  which,  when 
half  filled,  the  water  overflows  by  a  spout  on  one  side. 
Bees  visiting  the  flower  fall  into  the  bucket  and  crawl 
out  at  the  spout.  By  the  peculiar  arrangement  of  the 
parts  of  the  flower  the  first  bee  that  falls  in  carries 
away  the  pollen  mass  glued  to  his  back,  and  then  when 
he  has  his  next  involuntary  bath  in  another  flower,  as 
he  crawls  out  the  pollen  mass  attached  to  him  comes 
in  contact  with  the  stigma  of  that  second  flower  and 
fertilizes  it.  In  another  variety  he  tells  us  that  when 
the  bee  gnaws  a  certain  part  of  the  flower  he  inevitably 
touches  a  long  delicate  projection  which  he  calls  the 
antenna.  This  transmits  a  vibration  to  a  certain  mem- 
brane, which  is  instantly  ruptured,  setting  free  a  spring 
by  which  the  pollen  mass  is  shot  forth  like  an  arrow 
in  the  right  direction  and  adheres  by  its  viscid  ex- 
tremity to  the  back  of  the  bee.  With  this  strange 
cargo  under  sealed  orders,  he  wings  his  way  to  another 
flower,  and  thus,  while  busy  gathering  nectar  for  his 
comb,  he  is  made  an  unconscious  instrument  in  fulfilling 
conditions  under  which  a  new  vegetable  life  comes 
forth,  instructed  in  that  same  wonder-working  alchemy 
that  changes  into  a  new  orchid  nectar-cup  the  soil, 
shower,  and  sunlight  which  nature  has  furnished  for  its 
fashioning. 

Darwin,  in  his  volume  on  this  subject,  uses  this 
remarkable  language :  "  The  Label  him  is  developed  into 
a  long  nectary  in  order  to  attract  Lepidoptera,  and  we 

*  Origin  of  Species,  5th  edition,  p.  236. 


52  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

shall  presently  give  reasons  for  suspecting  that  the  nec- 
tar is  purposely  so  lodged  that  it  can  be  sucked  only 
sloAvly  in  order  to  give  time  for  the  curious  chemical 
quality  of  the  viscid  matter  setting  hard  and  dry."  Of 
one  particular  structure  he  says,  "  The  contrivance  of 
the  guiding  ridges  may  be  compared  to  the  little  instru- 
ment sometimes  used  for  guiding  a  thread  into  the  eye 
of  a  needle."  In  speaking  of  the  clue  which  led  him 
to  the  discovery  of  the  right  working  of  the  mechanism 
in  one  instance,  he  says,  "  The  strange  position  of  the 
Labellum  perched  on  the  summit  of  the  column  ought 
to  have  shown  me  that  here  was  the  place  for  experi- 
ment. I  ought  to  have  scorned  the  notion  that  the 
Labellum  was  thus  placed  for  no  good  purpose.  I  neg- 
lected this  plain  guide,  and  for  a  long  time  completely 
failed  to  understand  the  flower."  The  valuable  work 
from  which  these  sentences  have  been  taken  was  written 
by  Darwin  not  as  a  theorist  but  as  an  acute  and  pains- 
taking observer.  We  ask  for  no  better  witness  than 
Darwin  himself  against  his  and  Spencer's  explanation 
of  the  phenomena  of  correlated  growth.  Evidences  of 
an  intelligent  purpose,  of  the  workings  of  self-conscious 
mind,  are  too  overpowering  to  be  ignored. 

In  the  interior  of  the  ear  there  is  an  immense  number 
of  minute,  rod-like  bodies,  termed  Fibres  of  Corti, 
having  the  appearance  of  a  key-board.  Each  fibre  is 
connected  with  a  filament  of  the  auditory  nerve.  These 
shreds  of  the  nerves  are  strings,  and  the  fibres  the  keys 
that  strike  them.  This  is  supposed  to  be  a  key-board 
in  function  as  well  as  appearance,  and  through  it  not 
only  melody  but  even  harmony  of  sounds  finds  an 
avenue  to  the  brain.  Here,  as  Mivart  suggests,  is  an 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  53 

anticipatory  contrivance,  for  our  progenitors  had  no 
wants  in  their  simple  modes  of  life  which  could  possibly 
call  into  play  an  instrument  of  such  unlimited  resources 
of  symphony,  an  instrument  that  has  proved  itself 
capable  of  interpreting  to  privileged  multitudes  the 
pathos  and  the  rapture  of  a  Beethoven  and  a  Mendels- 
sohn. 

In  the  human  eye  there  have  been  discovered  by 
anatomists  upwards  of  eight  hundred  distinct  contri- 
vances. Seven  matched  socket-bones,  a  self-adjusting 
curtain  with  its  delicate  fringe  of  hair,  a  projecting  eye- 
brow, six  outer  muscles  of  the  ball,  one  of  them  geared 
through  a  pulley,  oil-  and  tear-glands  with  an  accompa- 
nying waste-pipe,  a  hard,  transparent,  elastic  cornea  set 
in  the  white  sclerotica,  an  expanding  and  contracting 
pupil,  an  aqueous,  a  crystalline,  and  a  vitreous  humor, 
an  inward  net-work  of  nerve, — such  are  some  of  the  more 
noticeable  points  of  an  instrument  which,  in  the  inge- 
nuity of  its  adjustments,  eclipses  any  invention  of  any 
human  genius  of  any  era.  Note  but  one  of  its  contri- 
vances. By  this  its  possessor  can  both  thread  a  needle 
and  sight  a  star.  The  sclerotic  and  choroid  coats  are 
filled  with  minute  muscles  which  can  flatten  and  press 
back  toward  the  retina  the  crystalline  humor,  and  by 
the  same  movement  change  also  the  form  and  refracting 
power  of  the  vitreous  humor  in  which  the  lens  lies.  A 
reverse  process  can  be  effected  with  equal  ease.  Thus 
the  ends  that  are  clumsily,  painfully,  imperfectly  attained 
by  the  apparatus  of  the  astronomer  and  the  microsco- 
pist  are  here  secured  without  spherical  aberration, 
instantly  and  by  simple  volition. 

It  would  seem  impossible  to  account  for  the  develop- 


54  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

ment  of  such  a  complicated  instrument  by  means  of  a 
natural  selection  from  among  minute,  indefinite,  for- 
tuitous variations,  that  selection  being  guided  simply  by 
the  urgent  demands  of  a  struggle  for  life,  for  the  instru- 
ment in  order  to  be  of  any  advantage  in  this  struggle 
must  have  a  concurrence  of  parts  predicating  a  multi- 
tude of  initial  concurrent  departures  from  the  parental 
type.  Only  on  this  concurrence  comes  the  gift  of  sight, 
and  the  very  fact  that  such  an  end  has  been  attained  by 
such  complicated  means  at  the  very  outset  before  any 
selection  can  possibly  take  place,  furnishes,  it  would 
seem,  a  complete  answer  to  the  Darwinian  theory. 
Even  the  simplest  eyes,  those  that  are  fixed  and  angular 
and  of  least  focal  power,  furnish  us  this  argument  in 
its  full  force,  for  not  one  of  them  is  so  simple  but  that 
even  it  is  the  resultant  of  simultaneous  and  correspond- 
ing growths  of  different  parts,  each  of  an  independent 
origin  and  development,  and  each  utterly  useless  until 
conjoined  with  the  others  in  a  symmetrical  whole.  Also 
at  each  advance  step  in  compass  and  complexity  the 
same  difficulties  confront  Darwin,  for  each  is  made  up 
of  an  entirely  separate  set  of  concurrent  changes.  It 
is  a  very  significant  fact  that  the  trilobites,  one  of  the 
oldest  of  fossil  forms,  to  all  appearance  coming  suddenly 
upon  the  scene,  without  as  yet  any  discovered  ancestry, 
possessed  fully-developed  organs  of  sight. 

The  human  frame  has  diverged  from  that  of  brutes 
in  the  direction  of  greater  physical  helplessness,  being 
left  naked,  without  great  teeth  or  claws,  comparatively 
weak,  and  possessed  of  little  speed  and  of  slight  powers 
of  smell  with  which  to  find  food  or  safety. 

At  the  time  these  changes  occurred  in  the  body  cor- 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  55 

responding  ones  must  have  reached  the  brain,  for  the  one 
change  without  the  other,  as  Darwin  confesses,  would 
have  been  a  serious  hindrance  in  the  struggle  for  life, 
and,  if  his  theory  be  true,  could  not  have  long  sur- 
vived. As  in  the  formation  of  the  eye  and  ear,  modi- 
fications occurring  at  different  starting-points,  and  each 
developing  along  an  independent  line,  must  have  united 
in  a  concert  of  action  before  they  could  be  of  any  advan- 
tage, so  independent,  synchronous,  and  corresponding 
changes  must  have  taken  place  in  both  the  body  and 
brain  of  the  brute  to  have  produced  the  man,  even  waiv- 
ing the  question  of  his  being  distinctively  endowed  with 
a  moral  accountable  nature.  Selection  from  minute  in- 
definite variations,  such  as  Darwin  supposes,  could  have 
here  played  no  part.  Would  creation  be  a  misnomer 
for  such  a  circle  of  change  ?  Brutes,  though  thus  men's 
progenitors,  could  have  sustained  to  them  no  closer  re- 
lation than  the  soil  to  the  flowers  which  open  out  from 
it  their  tinted  and  perfumed  petals. 

In  examining  the  phenomena  of  homologous  growth 
the  question  very  naturally  suggests  itself,  Is  utility 
always  the  end  aimed  at,  or  is  the  securing  of  mere 
beauty  or  variety  in  any  single  instance  a  controlling 
purpose  ?  If  the  latter  is  true,  then  the  hypothesis  of 
the  survival  of  the  fittest  is  fatally  at  fault,  as  its  author 
has  felt  himself  forced  to  confess. 

Darwin,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  is  the  very  first  to 
enter  the  list  against  his  own  theory,  openly  acknowl- 
edging that  in  the  colors  and  forms  of  flowers  the  forces 
of  correlated  growth  "  do  modify  important  structures 
independent  of  utility,  and  therefore  of  natural  selec- 
tion." But  we  need  not  enter  the  vegetable  kingdom 


56  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

to  find  overwhelming  testimony  against  the  soundness 
of  his  philosophy. 

There  is  a  class  of  microscopic  animals,  the  Dia- 
tomacese,  which  have  existed  in  such  vast  numbers 
that  entire  mountains  have  been  found  composed  of 
their  remains.  The  forms  of  their  infinitesimal  shells, 
when  magnified,  are  discovered  to  be  of  most  exquisite 
beauty  and  of  every  conceivable  pattern.  uln  the 
same  drop  of  moisture/7  writes  Argyll,  l(  there  may  be 
some  dozen  or  twenty  forms,  each  with  its  own  dis- 
tinctive pattern,  all  as  constant  as  they  are  distinctive, 
yet  all  having  apparently  the  same  habits  and  without 
any  perceptible  difference  of  function."  Neither  sexual 
nor  natural  selection  has  any  governing  influence  here. 
Mere  ornament  and  variety  is  the  evident  purpose. 

"  The  most  probable  view  in  regard  to  the  splendid 
tints  of  many  of  the  lowest  animals  seems  to  be  that 
their  colors  are  the  direct  result  either  of  the  chemical 
nature  or  of  the  minute  structure  of  their  tissues  inde- 
pendently of  any  benefit  thus  derived."*  Darwin  at- 
tributes the  beauty  of  the  maiden's  cheek  to  the  color 
of  the  arterial  blood ;  the  extreme  beauty  of  some  of 
the  naked  sea-slugs,  to  the  biliary  glands  seen  through 
the  translucent  integuments.  But  are  not  the  tints  of 
autumn  and  of  sunset  and  of  flower-petal  susceptible  of 
like  explanation?  There  is  no  sexual  selection  and 
consequently  no  secondary  sexual  characteristics  among 
mollusks,  yet  they  are  beautifully  colored  and  shaped. 
Darwin  admits  these  colors  to  have  no  use  as  a  protec- 
tion, and  accounts  for  them  by  the  nature  of  the  tissues, 

*  Descent  of  Man,  vol.  i.  p.  314. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  57 

while  the  sculpture  of  the  shells  he  attributes  to  their 
manner  of  growth.  Suppose  he  were  asked  to  explain 
the  origin  of  London  Bridge :  would  he  answer,  think 
you,  that  it  is  the  result  of  certain  mechanical  and  chem- 
ical forces  working  under  fixed  laws  ?  Yet  nothing  is 
more  settled  in  science  than  that  these  very  forces  per- 
formed the  entire  work.  All  the  will  of  man  has  done 
is  to  direct  them  in  their  working. 

Note  the  case  of  the  tropical  butterflies.  Mr.  Bates, 
quoted  by  Darwin  as  high  authority,  has  proved  that 
their  gorgeous  colors  are  not  due  to  the  greater  heat  and 
moisture  to  which  they  are  exposed ;  that,  though  both 
sexes  in  many  cases  are  subject  to  the  same  conditions 
and  live  on  the  same  food,  they  so  widely  differ,  the 
male  being  gayly  dressed  while  the  female  goes  about  in 
plain  Quaker  costume,  that  naturalists  for  a  long  while 
ranked  them  as  of  different  genera ;  and  that  in  other 
cases  both  sexes  are  alike  in  external  appearance,  both 
presenting  very  broad  and  brilliantly  tinted  wings. 
Darwin  affirms  his  belief  that  the  same  causes  have 
probably  affected  the  color  in  all  as  the  same  type  is 
preserved.  As,  evidently,  in  many,  neither  sexual 
selection,  nor  environment,  nor  habits  of  life,  nor  pur- 
poses of  protection  are  concerned,  to  what  cause  can 
this  display  of  marvellous  beauty  be  attributed  ?  What 
hinders  a  belief  that  the  same  Divine  Artist  who 
painted  the  sunset,  the  rainbow,  the  flowers,  and  the 
autumnal  glory,  garnished  also  "  these  winged  blossoms 
of  the  woods"? 

Darwin  informs  us*  that  "  the  ocelli  on  the  feathers 


*  Descent  of  Man,  vol.  ii.  pp.  87,  88. 
4 


58  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

of  the  Argus-pheasant  are  so  beautifully  shaded  they 
stand  out  like  a  ball  lying  loosely  within  a  socket. 
These  feathers  have  been  shown  to  several  artists,  and 
all  have  expressed  their  admiration  at  the  perfect  shad- 
ing. It  may  well  be  asked,  Could  these  ornaments  have 
been  formed  by  means  of  sexual  selection?"  This 
question  the  author  answers  in  the  affirmative.  But 
how  happens  it  that  choices  made  by  birds  in  seasons 
of  courtship  out  of  indefinite  variations  of  adornment 
result  in  a  work  of  such  high  art  ?  Have  these  choices, 
granting  them  to  have  been  made,  been  guided  by  a 
capricious  taste,  or  are  they  but  one,  and  that  too  a  sub- 
ordinate one,  of  many  agencies  organized  and  controlled 
by  a  self-conscious  will  for  the  embodiment  in  color  and 
form  of  some  definitely  preconceived  ideal  ?  Darwin 
attempts  to  show  that  minute  steps  have  been  taken  in 
forming  the  ocellus,  that  there  has  been  a  gradual  ap- 
proach toward  the  resemblance  to  the  ball  and  socket. 
But  in  the  case  of  the  mouth  of  the  whale  and  the 
throat  of  the  kangaroo,  as  we  shall  see,  the  entire  de- 
parture from  the  ordinary  construction  must  have  been 
effected  at  once.  Why  may  not  the  ocellus  have  as 
suddenly  appeared  in  all  its  completeness  ? 

"  No  one,  I  presume,  will  attribute  the  shading,  which 
has  excited  the  admiration  of  many  experienced  artists, 
to  chance,  to  a  fortuitous  concourse  of  atoms  of  color- 
ing-matter. That  these  ornaments  should  have  been 
formed  through  the  selection  of  many  successive  varia- 
tions, not  one  of  which  was  originally  intended  to  pro- 
duce the  ball-and-socket  effect,  seems  as  incredible  as 
that  one  of  Raphael's  Madonnas  should  have  been 
formed  by  the  selection  of  chance  daubs  of  paint  made 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  59 

by  a  long  succession  of  young  artists,  not  one  of  whom 
intended  at  first  to  draw  the  human  figure."*  Here  is 
a  clear  admission  that  a  certain  species  of  bird  comes 
upon  the  stage  charged  with  a  distinct  mission,  the  work 
of  producing  on  a  feather-canvas  a  picture  whose  shad- 
ing shall  be  of  such  faultless  finish  that  the  foremost 
painters  of  the  age  shall  bear  testimony  that  it  is  indeed 
the  work  of  a  master.  I  fail  to  see  why  it  would  not 
be  reasonable  to  claim,  even  if  it  be  granted  that  this 
resemblance  in  its  perfectness  is  but  the  result  of  a  long 
series  of  change,  that  at  the  very  instant  the  tide  of 
taste  turned  in  the  mind  of  the  Argus-pheasant,  the 
very  instant  the  new  pattern  was  set,  the  new  impetus 
given,  a  new  creation  occurred.  Suppose  that  at  some 
time  the  directing,  germinal  power  of  an  acorn  becomes 
so  affected  that,  instead  of  growing  up  into  a  genuine 
old-fashioned  oak,  one  or  two  of  the  characteristics  of 
an  elm  make  their  appearance,  and  that  in  the  next 
generation  one  or  two  more  are  added,  and  thus  little 
by  little  the  change  goes  on  until  all  the  characteristics 
of  the  one  have  been  supplanted  by  those  of  the  other. 
Although  centuries  are  consumed  in  perfectly  embody- 
ing the  new  ideal,  yet  are  we  not  warranted  in  saying 
that  the  moment  the  new  germinal  impulse  is  given  that 
moment  a  new  creative  fiat  goes  forth  ?  The  laws  of 
sexual  and  natural  selection,  of  inheritance,  of  homol- 
ogous growth,  as  well  as  all  other  laws  of  life  whose 
nature  is  yet  unknown,  are,  as  we  have  remarked,  but 
methods  of  working.  The  birds  and  beasts  are  uncon- 
scious instruments,  they  are  blind  to  the  final  consum- 

*  Descent  of  Man,  vol.  ii.  p.  135. 


60  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    qUESTIONS. 

mation.  The  directive  force  that  finally  produces  the 
ball-and-socket  ocellus  is  no  less  mysterious  than  that 
force  which  is  wrapped  up  within  the  walls  of  an  acorn 
or  within  the  faces  of  a  crystal.  The  fact  that  the 
botanist  can  point  out  each  step  in  the  process  of  de- 
velopment whereby  the  oak  is  fashioned  out  of  dew, 
air,  soil,  and  sunlight,  that  he  can  talk  learnedly  of  the 
osmotic  force,  does  not  prove  that  he  has  solved  the 
riddle  of  growth,  nor  does  his  showing  that  centuries 
are  necessary  to  bring  the  tree  to  perfection  lift  a  single 
inch  the  hiding  curtain. 

NATUKAL  AND  SEXUAL  SELECTIONS. 

There  appear  strong  barriers  opposing  change  in 
animal  organisms  in  certain  directions,  and  equally 
strong  tendencies  toward  change  in  others.  The  expe- 
rience of  fanciers  has  proved  this.  Darwin  himself 
has  pointed  out  extreme  variability  in  dogs,  horses, 
fowls,  and  pigeons,  and  the  singularly  inflexible  organ- 
ization of  the  goose,  the  peacock,  and  the  guinea-hen. 
He  calls  our  attention  to  the  fact  of  "  a  whole  organ- 
ization seeming  to  have  become  plastic  and  tending  to 
depart  from  the  parental  type."  Professor  Huxley,  in 
his  "  Lay  Sermons,"  remarks,  "  We  greatly  suspect  that 
nature  does  make  considerable  jumps  in  the  way  of 
variation  now  and  then,  and  that  these  saltations  give 
rise  to  some  of  the  gaps  which  appear  to  exist  in  the 
series  of  known  forms."  Professor  Owen,  in  his 
"  Anatomy  of  Vertebrates,"  speaking  of  the  origin  of 
species,  says,  "  Natural  history  teaches  that  the  change 
would  be  sudden  and  considerable ;  it  opposes  the  idea 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  (51 

that  species  are  transmitted  by  minute  and  slow  degrees. 
An  innate  tendency  to  deviate  from  the  parental  type 
operating  through  periods  of  adequate  duration  is  the 
way  of  operation  of  the  secondary  law  whereby  species 
have  been  derived  one  from  another."  This  is  essen- 
tially Mivart's  theory,  in  contradistinction  to  that  of 
Darwin's  selection  and  transmission  of  minute,  indefi- 
nite, fortuitous  variations  until  they  become  intensified 
and  fixed.  Darwin,  after  mentioning  the  characteristics 
acquired  through  natural  and  sexual  selection,  uses  this 
remarkable  language  :*  "  An  unexplained  residuum  of 
change,  perhaps  a  large  one,  must  be  left  to  the  assumed 
uniform  action  of  those  unknown  agencies  which  occa- 
sionally induce  strongly-marked  and  abrupt  deviations 
of  structure  in  our  domestic  productions."  Both  Dar- 
win and  Huxley  thus  open  the  door  by  their  confessions 
for  the  theory  of  Owen,  Mivart,  and  Argyll.  They 
indeed  open  it  for  all  that  by  natural  interpretation  is 
meant  in  the  Mosaic  record,  for  if  there  are  "consider- 
able jumps,"  as  one  expresses  it,  or,  as  the  other, 
"strongly-marked  and  abrupt  variations,"  what  need 
for  any  of  Darwin's  supposed  ape-like  progenitors, 
intermediate  links?  and  if  for  these  marked  changes 
they  have,  as  they  are  forced  to  allow,  absolutely  no 
explanation,  what  valid  objection  can  they  urge  to  ours? 
Huxley  confesses  that  although  there  is  seemingly  a 
greater  difference  in  structural  character  between  some 
of  the  varieties  of  pigeons,  as  the  pouter  and  the  tum- 
bler, than  between  what  naturalists  call  distinct  species, 
as  the  ring-pigeon  and  stock-dove,  yet  the  varieties 

*  Descent  of  Man,  vol.  i.  p.  148. 


62  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    qUESTIONS. 

among  all  animals  may  be  crossed  indefinitely,  and  the 
mongrels  will  continue  fertile  inter  se,  while  the  hybrid 
offspring  of  crossed  species  are  in  ninety-nine  cases  out 
of  a  hundred  sterile  inter  se.  Does  not  this  confession, 
made  by  one  of  the  most  learned  of  scientists,  one 
favorably  inclined  to  Darwin's  interpretations  of  nature, 
warrant  us  in  the  belief  that  true  species  cannot  be  de- 
veloped through  the  adoption  and  transmission  of  in- 
dividual peculiarities?  Ought  not  this  limitation  to 
constitute  one  of  the  definitions  of  species  ?  Have  not 
naturalists  occasionally  mistaken  varieties  for  species, 
and  will  not  this  test  serve  as  a  corrective?  Huxley 
remarks,*  "  To  sum  up,  the  evidence,  so  far  as  we  have 
gone,  is  against  the  argument  as  to  any  limit  to  diver- 
gencies so  far  as  structure  is  concerned,  and  in  favor  of 
a  physiological  limitation.  By  selective  breeding  we 
can  produce  structural  divergencies  as  great  as  those  of 
species,  but  we  cannot  produce  equal  physiological  di- 
vergencies." It  matters  not  one  whit,  as  he  says, 
whether  this  sterility  is  universal  or  whether  it  exists 
only  in  a  single  case.  No  hypothesis  can  stand  which 
is  inconsistent  with  one  of  the  facts  for  which  it  pro- 
fesses to  account. 

Darwin  has  put  on  record  this  frank  confession  :f 
"  Not  until  I  read  an  able  article  in  the  North  British 
Review,  which  has  been  of  more  use  to  me  than  any 
other  criticism,  did  I  see  how  great  the  chances  were 
against  the  preservation  of  variations,  whether  slightly 
or  strongly  pronounced,  occurring  only  in  single  indi- 


*  Origin  of  Species,  p.  111. 

f  Descent  of  Man,  vol.  ii.  p.  120. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  63 

victuals."  The  article  here  referred  to  appeared  in  June, 
1867.  The  writer  of  it  urges  that  there  must  be  a 
simultaneous  modification  of  many  individuals  to  ren- 
der that  modification  permanent,  or  the  bare  weight  of 
numbers  would  carry  the  day.  He  forcibly  illustrates 
his  argument  by  supposing  a  white  man  to  go  upon  an 
island  whose  whole  population  is  black  and  to  marry 
with  the  natives.  It  will  be  readily  seen  that  even 
under  the  most  favorable  circumstances,  instead  of  the 
race  finally  bleaching  out,  the  few  drops  of  white  blood 
would  soon  be  lost  sight  of  forever  in  the  great  ocean 
of  black.  Mivart  remarks  that  Darwin's  admission  of 
the  justness  and  soundness  of  this  argument  "seems 
almost  to  amount  to  a  change  of  front  in  the  face  of 
the  enemy."  If  the  modification  is  simultaneous  in 
many  individuals,  creation  would  be  no  misnomer,  and 
Darwin,  as  we  have  seen,  candidly  admits  that  a  whole 
organization  has  been  known  to  become  plastic,  to  tend 
to  depart  from  the  parental  type. 

Sir  William  Thompson  calculates,  as  Mivart  informs 
us,  that,  judging  from  the  influence  of  the  tides,  the 
condition  of  the  sun,  and  the  present  amount  of  the 
earth's  internal  heat,  life  could  not  have  commenced 
farther  in  the  past  than  a  thousand  million  years.  He 
calculates  that  at  least  twenty  times  that  period  was 
necessary  to  produce  the  present  life-development  by 
the  Darwinian  method.  If  we  go  back  to  the  upper 
Silurian  strata,  we  have  already  nearly  reached  the  life- 
limit,  if  Thompson's  figures  are  correct;  yet  at  this 
ancient  epoch  we  find  the  forms  of  the  animal  sub- 
kingdoms  highly  developed,  while  prior  to  this  the 
fossiliferous  deposits  are  strangely  meagre.  These  facts 


64  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

furnish  strong  presumptive  proof  of  life's  sudden  intro- 
duction, as  opposed  to  its  protracted  evolution  through 
minute,  fortuitous,  indefinite  variations.  Impressed  by 
these  facts,  Darwin  acknowledges,  "  The  case  at  present 
must  remain  inexplicable,  and  may  be  truly  urged  as  a 
valid  argument  against  my  views." 

The  doctrine  of  sexual  selection  is,  it  would  seem,  in 
altogether  too  flexible  a  state  to  be  of  any  very  great 
scientific  value.  As  we  have  already  had  occasion  to 
remark,  Darwin,  under  the  stress  of  different  emergen- 
cies, has  spoken  of  male  characteristics  being  trans- 
ferred equally  to  both  sexes,  also  of  their  being  trans- 
ferred only  to  the  males,  of  the  protective  colors  of 
females  being  in  some  instances  an  exclusive  privilege 
of  that  sex,  in  others  being  shared  by  both.  The  phe- 
nomena of  sexually  limited  inheritance  are  the  effects 
of  forces  whose  nature  and  methods  of  working  Dar- 
win has  evidently  failed  to  fathom.  He  struggles 
manfully,  but  without  avail,  to  free  his  theories  from 
these  entangling  webs.  I  alluded  to  some  of  the  trou- 
blesome facts  when  treating  of  mimicry.  I  will  call 
attention  to  others,  many  of  them  of  his  own  sugges- 
tion. 

The  males  of  some  species  of  fish  have  the  duty  as- 
signed them  of  hatching  the  eggs,  and  during  this  sea- 
son are  exposed  to  great  danger,  yet  they  are  far  more 
brilliantly  colored  than  their  mates.  It  would  seem 
that  a  protective  garb  should  be  given  them,  as  the 
fate  of  each  involves  the  fate  of  thousands  of  their 
progeny.  With  some  genera  the  males  have  marsupial 
sacks  in  which  the  eggs  laid  by  the  females  are  hatched. 
But  the  genus  Solenostoma  offers  a  very  curious  excep- 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  65 

tional  case.  The  female  has  these  sacks  and  hatches 
her  own  eggs,  yet,  strange  to  say,  is  more  vividly  col- 
ored and  spotted  than  the  male,  and  thus  more  exposed. 
This  double  inversion  is  truly  very  remarkable,  and  has 
not  yet  proved  susceptible  of  a  naturalistic  explana- 
tion. The  brilliance  cannot  be  for  protection,  as  Dar- 
win admits,  for  with  the  multitude  of  fishes  the  males 
are  the  brighter,  although  to  the  race  the  females  are 
equally  important,  and  so  he,  twisting  his  theory  of 
sexual  selection  to  suit  the  case,  suggests  that,  contrary 
to  the  usual  custom,  the  males  here  become  the  choos- 
ers of  partners  in  seasons  of  courtship.  He  takes  the 
same  tack  in  explaining  the  exceptional  appearance  of 
some  species  of  birds.  When  the  females  are  equally 
brilliant  with  the  males,  he  claims  that  the  latter  first 
differed  and  then  transmitted  their  newly-acquired  orna- 
ments equally  to  both ;  when  less,  that  the  males  transmit- 
ted them  exclusively  to  their  own  sex  ;  when  more,  that 
the  males,  after  having  transmitted  them  to  the  females, 
have  themselves  lost  the  distinctive  features.  It  is 
strange  that  the  male  fish,  which  are  ardent  in  their 
courtship,  often  closing  with  their  rivals  in  death-strug- 
gle, should  be  smaller  than  the  female.  Sexual  selection 
should  work  uniformly  among  land  and  water  animals. 
It  is  also  strange  that  while  the  males  are  more  beauti- 
ful than  the  females,  some  of  them  taking  on  their 
ornaments  during  the  spawning  season,  the  females 
should  among  their  lovers  exercise  no  preference. 
There  are  cases,  as  in  some  beetles,  in  which  the  males 
are  larger  and  stronger  than  the  females,  yet  are  not 
known  to  fight  together  in  rival  courtship.  Darwin 
admits  that  this  fact  puzzles  him. 

4* 


QQ  VIEWS  ON    VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

The  survival  of  the  fittest  of  the  minute,  indefinite 
variations  of  individuals  is  wholly  inadequate  to  ac- 
count for  the  mouth  of  the. whale  or  the  throat  of  the 
kangaroo.  The  former,  we  are  told  by  Mivart,  is  lined 
with  two  series  of  horny  plates  lying  close  together. 
Their  inner  edges  are  furnished  with  coarse,  hair-like 
processes  of  the  same  material,  apparently  the  frayed 
ends  of  the  plates,  constituting  a  sieve,  through  which 
the  whale  strains  from  the  ocean-water,  as  it  passes  out 
at  his  blow-pipes,  the  minute  creatures  that  form  its 
food.  This  most  extraordinary  contrivance  is  utterly 
useless  to  its  possessor  until  it  has  reached  perfection. 
As  it  could  offer  no  assistance  in  the  struggle  for  life 
until  then,  some  other  instrumentality  than  that  sup- 
posed by  Darwin  must  have  carried  it  on  through  its 
incipient  stages  of  development,  if  there  were  any, 
down  that  long  line  of  whale-ancestry  steadily  toward 
the  goal  of  its  availability.  Furthermore,  the  whale's 
whole  mode  of  existence  must  have  undergone  radical 
change  at  the  time  it  began  effectively  to  use  this 
strainer,  for  before  this  its  food  and  its  devices  for  ob- 
taining it  must  have  been  radically  different. 

The  larynx  of  the  kangaroo  reaches  up  to  the  pos- 
terior end  of  the  nasal  passages.  In  the  vast  majority 
of  the  mammals  it  stops  at  the  floor  of  the  mouth  and 
is  shielded  by  the  epiglottis  in  times  of  swallowing. 
The  young  of  this  species  comes  into  the  world  too  im- 
perfect to  suck  and  swallow,  and  so  its  mother  is  en- 
abled by  nature  to  place  it  upon  the  nipple,  and  by  a 
special  muscular  movement  of  the  mammary  gland  to 
throw  the  milk  into  its  mouth.  The  peculiar  length- 
ening of  the  windpipe  prevents  strangulation,  the  milk 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  67 

passing  on  each  side  of  it  into  the  gullet.  If  this  was 
the  original  form,  why  the  change?  for  it  could  not  pos- 
sibly work  any  harm  to  any  one.  If,  on  the  other 
hand,  this  is  a  departure  from  the  original,  and  by  slow 
degrees,  the  first  young  had  no  other  alternative  than 
choking  or  starvation.  The  race  must  at  once  have 
become  extinct,  or,  in  other  words,  the  change  never 
could  have  occurred.  Mivart  tells  us  that  the  gavials 
and  the  crocodiles  also  have  this  peculiarity.  While 
for  the  one  it  is  of  no  apparent  use,  the  other  turn  it  to 
advantage  in  drowning  their  prey  while  holding  them 
under  water  with  their  teeth. 

What  explanation  has  Darwin  for  the  fact  that  one 
of  the  eyes  of  the  flatfish  gradually  shifts  its  position 
from  one  side  of  the  head  to  the  other?  Here  is 
something  more  than  the  selection  and  transmission  of 
some  favorable  individual  peculiarity.  Here  is  actual 
motion  predicating  the  presence  of  force.  It  cannot  be 
asserted  that  the  fish  is  thus  better  fitted  to  battle  for 
life,  for  other  species  thrive  without  this  change.  They 
swim  and  fight  and  feed  as  well.  Neither  can  it  be 
claimed  as  a  sexual  ornament.  How,  then,  at  the  first 
chanced  the  eye  to  project  a  journey  so  unique,  and  by 
what  marvellous  means  has  it  reached  at  last  its  desti- 
nation ? 

Darwin,  speaking  on  the  subject  of  rudiments,  re- 
marks,* "  But  the  latter  stages  of  reduction,  after  dis- 
use has  done  all  that  can  fairly  be  attributed  to  it,  and 
when  the  saving  to  be  effected  by  the  economy  of 
growth  would  be  very  small,  are  difficult  to  under- 

*  Descent  of  Man,  vol.  i.  p.  18. 


68  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

stand.  The  final  and  complete  suppression  of  a  part 
already  useless  and  much  reduced  in  size,  in  which  case 
neither  compensation  nor  economy  can  come  into  play, 
is  perhaps  intelligible  by  the  aid  of  the  hypothesis  of 
pangenesis,  and  apparently  in  no  other  way."  If  the 
arguments  we  have  stated  against  this  hypothesis  are 
sound,  these  very  phenomena  of  rudimentary  organs, 
to  which  Darwin  generally  points  so  confidently  in 
support  of  his  theory,  and  which  are  indeed  the  most 
favorable  of  any,  present  insuperable  objections  to  it ; 
for  if  by  his  own  confession  he  can  account  for  them  in 
no  other  way  than  by  this  theory,  which  is  really  un- 
tenable, then  there  is  no  resource  left  him.  Besides,  I 
am  unable  to  see  how  pangenesis  is  at  all  pertinent,  as 
it  bears  only  on  the  transmission  of  likeness,  the  per- 
petuation of  a  trait,  not  its  gradual  disappearance. 
Darwin  claims*  that  from  the  fact  of  the  existence  of 
rudimentary  organs  "  we  ought  frankly  to  admit  the 
community  of  descent  of  men  and  brutes :  to  take  any 
other  view  is  to  admit  that  our  own  structure  and  that 
of  all  the  animals  around  us  is  a  mere  snare  laid  to 
entrap  our  judgment."  Following  out  the  theory  of 
Owen,  Mivart,  and  Argyll,  I  would  reply  that,  as  crea- 
tion comes  through  birth  under  law,  man  would  retain 
many  rudimentary  brute  characteristics,  while  at  the 
same  time  he  would  enter  upon  the  possession  of  others 
distinctively  human.  Darwin  argues  that  inasmuch  as 
we  in  our  embryonic  life  resemble  at  different  times 
different  animals,  we  must  count  such-like  animals 
among  our  ancestors.  Agassiz  has  answered  that  sub- 

*  Descent  of  Man,  vol.  i.  p.  31. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  69 

stantially  in  this  way.  If  two  germs  though  seemingly 
alike  grow  under  all  circumstances,  the  one  into  an  ape 
and  never  above,  the  other  into  a  man  and  never 
below,  then  the  two  germs,  though  indistinguishable  at 
first,  and  though  following  for  a  time  the  same  line  of 
embryonic  development,  are  radically  different  from 
the  beginning,  whatever  that  beginning  may  have  been. 
He  regarded  the  evolution  revealed  in  nature  as  one  of 
ideas,  each  typical  form  appearing  through  the  creative 
fiat  of  one  mind. 

Hugh  Miller  maintained*  that  the  influence  of  physi- 
cal surroundings  utterly  fails  to  account  for  the  phe- 
nomena of  reduction  and  degradation.  He  has  informed 
us  that  it  was  not  until  after  the  full  development  of 
the  reptile  dynasty  that  there  were  introduced  into  the 
ichthyic  division  all  those  irregular' and  degraded  forms 
such  as  sun-  and  frog-fishes,  and  that  the  footless  serpent 
did  not  come  until  mammals  had  entered  upon  the 
scene.  Professor  Dana  statesf  that  the  earliest  repre- 
sentatives of  a  zoological  group  are  generally  a  little 
above  the  lowest  of  the  series,  evolution  reaching  down- 
ward as  well  as  up.  He  also  remarks,;);  "  In  the  case  of 
man,  the  abruptness  of  transition  from  preceding  forms 
is  more  extraordinary  than  all  others,  and  especially 
because  it  occurs  so  near  the  present  time.  In  the 
highest  man-ape,  the  nearest  allied  of  living  species,  the 
capacity  of  the  cranium  is  but  thirty-four  inches,  while 
the  skeleton  throughout  is  not  fitted  for  an  erect  position, 
and  the  forelimbs  are  essential  to  locomotion ;  but  in 


*  Footprints  of  the  Creator,  p.  321. 

f  Manual  of  Geology,  p.  39G.  t  Ibid.,  p.  603. 


70  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   qUESTIONS. 

the  lowest  of  existing  men,  the  capacity  of  the  cranium 
is  sixty-eight  inches;  every  bone  is  made  and  adjusted 
for  the  erect  position;  and  the  forelimbs,  instead  of 
being  required  in  locomotion,  are  wholly  taken  from 
the  ground  and  have  other  and  higher  issues." 

Professor  Winchell,  in  his  "  Doctrine  of  Evolution," 
offers  some  seemingly  insuperable  objections  to  all 
naturalistic  theories.  The  lengthening  of  the  forelegs 
of  the  giraffe  is  a  correlated  growth  not  referable  to  any 
known  physical  force.  The  weight  of  the  animal 
would  tend  to  shorten  them.  "  It  will  not  suffice  to 
call  it  a  physiological  force,  if  by  this  is  meant  some 
force  resolvable  into  endosmose,  capillarity,  affinity,  as 
maintained  by  Draper,  Barker,  Spencer,  and  others,  for 
these  forces  are  physical,  and,  like  mechanical,  act  along 
lines  of  least  resistance.  Then  it  must  be  some  force 
super-physical."*  He  shows  that  animals  with  similar 
wants  and  surroundings  have  been  dissimilarly  de- 
veloped, while  others,  such  as  the  whale  and  ox,  both 
air-breathing,  have  under  diversified  conditions  an 
identity  of  conformation.  Land  animals  could  not 
have  been  evolved  out  of  fish  by  any  protracted  pro- 
cess, for  unless  the  gills  were  at  once  changed  into  lungs 
life  could  not  have  been  preserved.  So,  too,  the  tran- 
sition from  birds  and  reptiles  to  mammals  must  have 
been  instantaneous.  The  chasm  between  the  verte- 
brates and  the  invertebrates  is  not  bridged,  as  some  have 
claimed,  by  the  young  ascidian's  row  of  cells  resem- 
bling the  dorsal  cord,  for  these  cells  are  on  the  ven- 
tral not  dorsal  side,  and  when  the  animal  advances  in 

*  Winchell's  "  Doctrine  of  Evolution,"  p.  71. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  71 

age  the  cells  disappear  instead  of  becoming  more  pro- 
nounced. 

Darwin  frankly  says,*  "  Our  ignorance  of  the  laws 
of  variation  is  profound."  In  qualifying  his  assertion 
that  the  changes  are  due  to  chance,  he  states  that  he 
means  "  only  to  acknowledge  plainly  our  ignorance  of 
the  cause  of  each  particular  variation."  Thus  by  his 
own  showing  he  has  not  discovered  the  origin  of  species, 
although  his  work  bears  that  title.  His  theories  of 
Natural  and  Sexual  Selection  and  of  Pangenesis  can 
relate  only  to  the  perpetuity  and  intensifying  of  forms 
born  into  the  world  he  knows  not  how. 

When  he  remarks,  f  "  I  believe  in  no  law  of  neces- 
sary development,"  he  places  himself  without  the  pale 
of  the  Evolution  school.  The  unfoldings  of  life  in  the 
world  are  not  to  him  the  progressive  work  of  forces  under 
law.  His  belief  on  this  point  seems  to  be  this.  The 
variations  from  which  natural  and  sexual  selections  are 
made  are  so  indefinite  that  it  is  impossible  to  discover  in 
them  either  order  or  design,  and  those  only  are  chosen 
which  help  most  in  a  struggle  for  life  under  a  seem- 
ingly chance  set  of  circumstances.  There  is,  according 
to  his  theory,  a  continual  progress  through  the  ages 
toward  the  most  fit,  simply  because  in  every  instance 
the  most  fit  are  chosen  and  survive,  but  there  is  no  uni- 
versal scheme  of  development  carried  out  by  a  company 
of  correlated  agencies  constituted  and  controlled  by  a 
will  that  is  at  once  self-conscious  and  creative.  Once 
in  a  while,  when  some  such  fact  as  the  ocellus  of  the 
Argus-pheasant  confronts  him,  he  is  betrayed  into  re- 

*  Origin  of  Species,  p.  131.  f  Ibid.,  p.  351. 


72  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   qUESTIONS. 

flections  not  readily  reconciled  with  this  the  main  drift 
of  his  thought. 

CREATIVE  FORCES. 

I  have  now  passed  in  review  a  few  of  the  facts  in 
the  light  of  which  many  of  our  foremost  thinkers  have 
felt  forced  to  regard  the  theories  of  Darwin  and  the 
Evolutionists  as  lacking  in  the  essentials  of  sound 
science.  To  the  creed  of  Mivart,  Argyll,  and  Owen 
I  now  direct  attention. 

Mivart  believes,  using  his  own  words,  "  in  the  effi- 
cient presence  of  an  unknown,  internal  natural  law  or 
laws,  conditioning  the  evolution  of  new  specific  forms 
from  preceding  ones  modified  by  the  action  of  surround- 
ing conditions  by  natural  selection  and  by  other  con- 
trolling influences." 

Argyll  says,*  "  If  I  am  asked  whether  I  believe  that 
every  separate  species  has  been  a  separate  creation,  not 
born  but  separately  made,  I  must  answer  that  I  do  not. 
I  think  the  facts  do  suggest  to  the  mind  the  idea  of 
the  working  of  some  creative  law  almost  as  certainly 
as  they  convince  us  we  know  nothing  of  its  nature  or 
of  the  conditions  under  which  it  does  its  glorious  work." 

Owen,  in  his  "  Anatomy  of  Vertebrates,"  uses  this 
language,  to  which  we  have  already  directed  attention  : 
"  Natural  history  teaches  that  the  change  would  be 
sudden  and  considerable ;  it  opposes  the  idea  that  spe- 
cies are  transmitted  by  minute  and  slow  degrees.  An 
innate  tendency  to  deviate  from  the  parental  type  oper- 

*  Reign  of  Law,  p.  249. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  73 

ating  through  periods  of  adequate  duration  is  the  way 
of  operation  of  the  secondary  law  whereby  species  have 
been  derived  one  from  another." 

These  eminent  authors,  it  appears,  hold  that  new 
species  are  developed  out  of  old  ones  with  as  much 
regularity  and  as  little  direct  interposition  of  Divine 
will  as  oaks  from  acorns ;  that  in  all  organisms  there 
are  tendencies  to  depart  from  the  parental  type;  that 
those  tendencies  are  innate  and  ready  to  manifest  them- 
selves whenever  certain  conditions  are  fulfilled;  that 
those  conditions  are  determined  by  immutable  laws, 
and  that  those  laws  were  established  at  the  first  in- 
breathings  of  organic  life.  Darwin  is  criticised,  not 
because  he  believes  in  the  existence  of  such  conditional 
forces,  but  because  he  claims  to  have  discovered  them  ; 
these  authors  contending  that  natural  and  sexual  selec- 
tions, though  instrumentalities,  are  not  the  only,  nor  the 
chief,  nor  even  the  prominent  ones  appointed  for  this 
work ;  that  the  changes,  instead  of  commencing  in 
minute,  indefinite,  individual  variations,  and  advancing 
at  a  very  slow  and  steady  pace  to  meet  the  emergencies 
of  an  endless  battle  for  life  or  love,  reach  their  goal  at 
a  single  bound  under  the  influence  of  forces  whose  na- 
ture and  methods  of  working  are  yet  enveloped  in  the 
profoundest  mystery. 

While  they  have  shown  upon  what  insecure  founda- 
tions rest  the  hypotheses  of  Darwin,  they  have  at  the 
same  time  failed  to  establish  thoroughly  their  own. 
They  are  forced  to  make  two  concessions  that  render 
possible  an  interpretation  of  the  phenomena  of  nature 
which,  while  answering  as  fully  the  claims  of  science, 
is  more  in  consonance  with  the  natural  and  commonly 


74  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

received  interpretation  of  the  Scripture  record,  and  sat- 
isfies in  larger  measure  the  cravings  of  the  hungry 
human  heart.  The  concessions  are  these :  first,  that 
they  know  nothing  either  of  the  nature  of  these  sup- 
posed creative  forces  or  of  their  methods  of  working ; 
second,  that,  to  use  Mivart's  own  words,*  "  the  soul  of 
every  individual  man  is  absolutely  created  in  the  strict 
and  primary  sense  of  the  word,  that  it  is  produced  by 
a  direct  and  supernatural  act,  and  that  by  such  an  act 
the  soul  of  the  first  man  was  similarly  created."  What 
valid  objection  can  they  urge  to  the  suggestion  that 
those  so-called  creative  forces  are  set  free  by  distinct 
volitions  of  some  self-conscious  intelligence,  inasmuch 
as  they  confessedly  know  nothing  about  them,  and  es- 
pecially as  they  concede  that  there  are  phenomena,  the 
introduction  of  human  souls,  which  can  thus,  and  only 
thus,  be  explained?  Grant,  if  you  please,  that  there 
are,  indeed,  forces  properly  denominated  creative,  that 
they  are  subject  to  unchangeable  laws,  that  new  species 
are  born  out  of  old  ones,  that  out  of  brute  life  has 
sprung  the  human,  yet,  as  we  are  conscious  that  our 
own  wills  are  essential  causes,  sources  of  unfailing  force, 
lying  outside  of  the  chain  of  natural  cause  and  eifect, 
and  are  capable  with  a  finite  knowledge  of  stepping  in 
and  by  skilled  appliances  directing  the  elemental  forces 
to  the  accomplishment  of  their  own  sovereign  purposes, 
we  can  readily  conceive  that  the  Divine  will,  guided 
by  an  infinite  knowledge,  can,  by  complying  with  the 
conditions  that  unfetter  these  forces  creative,  turn  the 
currents  of  organic  life  into  whatever  channel  it  chooses. 

*  Genesis  of  Species,  p.  295. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  75 

The  transformations  wrought  by  the  human  will  upon 
the  earth  are  marvellous.  Yet  no  natural  force  has 
been  destroyed,  no  law  abrogated.  The  relation  of  the 
Divine  will  to  the  universe  need  be  no  less  intimate, 
but  rather  may  be  inconceivably  more  so.  If  the  will 
of  Jacob  could,  by  conforming  to  certain  laws,  cause 
the  cattle  of  Laban  to  foal  speckled  calves,  if  the  will 
of  the  pigeon-fancier  of  to-day  can  develop  the  tum- 
bler and  pouter  out  of  native  breeds,  may  not  the 
will  of  God  by  precisely  analogous  methods  make 
these  very  creative  forces  its  ready  servitors?  The  fact 
that  such  forces  exist,  instead  of  precluding  the  idea  of 
the  interposition  of  will,  strongly  suggests  it.  Our  own 
experiences  ought  to  teach  us  this,  utilizing  as  we  have 
so  many  of  the  mechanical  and  vital  forces.  Huxley 
thinks  that  all  the  differences  between  men  and  brutes 
are  traceable  to  the  effects  of  the  gift  of  speech,  and 
that  it  might  come  from  the  very  slightest  change  in 
the  structure  of  the  nerves  that  control  the  muscles 
attached  to  the  vocal  cords.  Let  these  muscles  vary 
never  so  slightly  from  their  present  exact  parallel  ac- 
tion, and  we  should  be  struck  dumb  and  soon  sink  into 
brute  life.  While  controverting  the  conclusion  to  which 
he  endeavors  to  lead  us  by  this  unquestioned  fact  concern- 
ing the  structure  and  working  of  our  vocal  organs,  we 
acknowledge  the  service  he  renders  in  revealing  how 
by  the  slightest  exercise  of  the  Divine  will,  informed 
as  it  is  by  an  infinite  knowledge,  the  widest  revolutions 
of  change  in  organic  life  may  be  inaugurated  and  then 
intrusted  for  its  further  development  to  the  effect  of 
forces  already  at  work  in  the  world  under  established 
law.  May  not  even  Huxley's  spontaneous  and  Dar- 


76  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

win's  fortuitous  variations  be  the  result  of  this  Divine 
interference,  if  it  be  true  in  any  instance  that  species 
have  thus  begun  ?  As  these  theorists  make  no  preten- 
sions to  having  discovered  the  origin  of  these  individ- 
ual variations,  how  can  they  reasonably  object  to  our 
reverently  regarding  them  as  the  results  of  direct  voli- 
tions of  Divinity  ?  It  might,  perhaps,  be  suggested 
that  as  the  intellectual  and  emotional  states  of  the 
mother  at  certain  critical  periods  in  the  development 
of  the  foetus  leave  upon  it  an  indelible  impress,  pos- 
sibly God  may  by  dropping  a  simple  suggestion  at  those 
times  of  crisis  effect  any  desired  change,  for  surely  he 
can  communicate  with  his  creatures  if  they  can  with 
each  other ;  indeed,  we  may  safely  say  his  facilities  for 
this  mental  commerce  as  far  transcend  ours  as  does  his 
knowledge  of  mental  law. 

While,  then,  we  can  hold  it  quite  probable  that  crea- 
tions have  come  through  birth  under  law,  we  can  also 
perceive  how  this  system  of  conditional  forces  can  help 
rather  than  hinder  the  efficient  interposition  of  Divine 
will.  We  can  therefore  offer  no  welcome  to  the  thought 
that  God  ended  direct  personal  shaping  of  the  destiny 
of  his  creatures  in  a  past  so  remote  that  seons  of  geolo- 
gic time  have  since  then  rolled  by  in  an  almost  endless 
succession ;  for  the  very  theory  that  thus  removes  him 
as  a  Creator,  when  followed  out  to  its  legitimate,  logical 
conclusions,  equally  removes  him  as  Father  and  Friend, 
as  the  sympathetic  Answerer  of  the  passionate  pleadings 
of  stricken  hearts. 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  77 


THE  SCIENCE  OF  HISTORY. 

Buckle,  in  his  "  History  of  Civilization  in  England/' 
a  work  of  exhaustive  research  and  bold  inductive  reason- 
ing, champions  what  is  now  one  of  the  most  popular  of 
the  fallacies  that  have  sprung  from  this  naturalistic 
tendency  of  modern  thought  which  we  have  been  con- 
sidering. Natural  phenomena  have  been  discovered,  as 
we  have  remarked,  to  be  the  effects  of  conditional  forces 
working  by  fixed  methods.  Buckle  attempts,  and  with 
a  show  of  success,  to  reduce  all  social  phenomena  to  a 
like  perfect  regularity  in  proof  that  human  history  is 
subject  to  laws  as  immutable,  irresistible,  and  compre- 
hensive as  those  which  control  in  the  revolutions  of 
planets,  the  crystallization  of  salts,  or  the  growth  of 
trees;  that  mind  and  matter,  being  each  under  the 
absolute  control  of  a  separate  code  of  exact  laws,  pro- 
duce, when  brought  into  collision,  reciprocal  modifica- 
tions that  are  also,  in  their  turn,  as  unavoidably  syste- 
matic as  the  simpler  actions  of  which  they  are  the 
necessary  resultants ;  that  it  is  possible,  the  general 
antecedents  and  surroundings  of  nations  or  individuals 
being  given,  to  predict  their  future  destinies  with  the 
certainty  of  a  solar  eclipse. 

I  will  briefly  outline  his  more  important  statements. 

Men  multiply  most  rapidly,  he  claims,  in  those  coun- 
tries where  nature  furnishes  food  in  greatest  abundance 
in  return  for  the  least  toil.  This  cheap  living,  followed 
by  this  overstock  in  the  labor-market,  rendering  work 
very  productive  and  wages  very  low,  leads  inevitably 


78  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    qUESTIONS. 

to  an  unequal  distribution  of  wealth.  The  great  mass 
of  the  people,  thus  kept  hopelessly  poor  and  ignorant, 
become  the  hereditary  burden-bearers  of  capitalists 
whom  their  productive  industry  has  made  incalculably 
rich.  Here  civilizations  must  first  take  rise,  and  gov- 
ernments must  become  uniformly  despotic.  The  Brah- 
mins, the  Pharaohs,  and  the  Incas  are  instanced  as  at 
once  the  oldest  and  the  most  absolute  of  the  world's 
dynasties.  India  has  her  rice-fields,  Egypt  her  date- 
palms,  and  Peru  her  Indian  corn.  These  products  have 
from  the  remotest  antiquity  constituted  the  national 
food ;  they  are  indigenous  to  the  soil,  abound  in  nutri- 
ment, and,  under  the  joint  action  of  the  excessive  heat 
and  moisture  common  to  these  lands,  return  a  fabulous 
yield.  On  the  other  hand,  the  eastern  portions  of  North 
America  are  far  better  watered  than  the  western,  while 
the  western  are  much  warmer.  Moisture  and  heat  being 
thus  widely  separated,  nature  is  less  bountiful,  and  in 
consequence  only  wild  tribes  of  Indians  roamed  through 
her  forests  at  the  time  that  powerful  and  populous  civ- 
ilizations flourished  in  Southern  Mexico  and  Central 
America.  There  are  still  extant  ruins  of  royal  palaces 
that  unquestionably  point  to  dense  multitudes,  unequal 
distribution  of  wealth,  and  most  despotic  forms  of  gov- 
ernment, hundreds  of  thousands  of  workmen  being 
employed  for  entire  generations  upon  the  walls  of  a 
single  edifice.  In  Brazil  an  excess  of  vegetation  has 
worked  results  similar  to  those  caused  by  its  deficiency 
elsewhere.  Covered  with  a  net-work  of  the  noblest 
rivers,  heated  by  a  tropical  sun,  and  swept  by  eastern 
trade-winds  that  sup  up  the  waters  of  the  Atlantic  only 
to  shower  them  down  again  when  chilled  by  the  lofty 


THE  SUPERNATURAL,  79 

mountain-ranges  on  the  west,  its  plant,  insect,  and  brute 
life  exists  in  such  wild  profusion  that  all  hope  of  human 
subjugation  and  tillage  is  forever  precluded.  Though 
it  is  twelve  times  the  size  of  France,  and  its  coast 
studded  with  the  finest  natural  harbors  in  the  world,  no 
ruins  have  ever  yet  been  found  within  it  of  former 
civilizations,  and  its  scattered  people  can  boast  of  none 
to-day. 

He  further  claims  that  in  tropical  and  volcanic  coun- 
tries literatures  and  religions  owe  their  distinguishing 
characteristics  to  irresistible  influences  that  there  emanate 
from  the  sublime  and  threatening  aspects  of  nature,  the 
imagination  inevitably  tyrannizing  over  every  other 
mental  faculty.  The  Italians  and  the  Spaniards,  for 
example,  have  enthusiastically  and  successfully  culti- 
vated poetry  and  painting,  while  with  them  the  study 
of  the  sciences  has  perceptibly  languished.  The  books 
of  India,  written  on  whatever  theme  and  with  whatever 
intent,  have,  with  but  rare  exceptions,  been  expressed 
in  metaphor  and  in  rhythm.  The  Hindoo  histories  are 
filled  with  the  wildest  fancies,  millions  of  years  being 
soberly  claimed  for  the  lifetime  of  some  of  their  early 
kings,  and  thousands  of  millions  of  years  for  their  code 
of  laws,  the  Institutes  of  Menu.  The  forms  of  their 
temples  and  the  character  of  their  gods  witness  to  the 
terrible  conceptions  that  throng  their  thoughts  in  con- 
sequence of  the  mysterious  physical  forces  which  with 
titanic  strength  ruthlessly  smite  down  at  once  their 
homes  and  their  hopes.  Siva,  one  of  the  Hindoo  triad, 
is  a  hideous,  three-eyed,  mad  monster,  girdled  with 
snakes,  wearing  a  necklace  of  human  bones,  and  clothed 
with  the  fierce  tiger's  skin,  while  over  his  shoulder  rears 


80  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    qUESTIONS. 

the  head  of  the  deadly  cobra-de-capello.  The  descrip- 
tion of  his  wife,  Doorga,  is  a  still  more  frightful  fancy, 
evidently  the  joint  work  of  dread  and  wonder.  In 
Egypt,  Mexico,  and  Peru,  as  far  as  known,  kindred 
religious  beliefs  were  entertained.  But  in  Greece, 
where  nature  was  less  dominant  and  destructive,  much 
milder  ideas  of  the  supernatural  prevailed;  the  gods 
were  clothed  with  forms,  feelings,  and  forces  mainly 
human.  That  the  present  strongholds  of  the  Roman 
hierarchy  are  in  volcanic  countries  is  accounted  for  on 
the  same  hypothesis. 

It  is  confidently  asserted  that  these  influences  of 
nature  upon  nations  thus  peculiarly  circumstanced  are 
insurmountable,  that  these  mischievous  inequalities  in 
property,  so  replete  with  despotism,  it  is  impossible  to 
prevent,  and  that  the  wildest  and  most  ruinous  super- 
stitions must  forever  curse  the  religious  thinking  of 
those  whose  imaginations  are  thus  by  impending  perils 
incessantly  kept  at  fever-heat.  In  countries,  however, 
where  the  climate  is  mainly  temperate,  where  food  and 
shelter  are  secured  at  greatest  expense  and  the  aspects 
of  nature  are  less  imposing,  the  population  is  propor- 
tionately diminished,  property  is  more  widely  distrib- 
uted, there  is  less  of  the  spirit  of  caste,  the  prerogatives 
of  rulers  are  hedged  in  by  constitutional  guarantees, 
the  imagination  is  no  longer  left  to  tyrannize  over  the 
reason,  the  earth  and  its  inhabitants  are  matters  of 
scientific  inquiry,  and  prevailing  religious  beliefs  are 
founded  on  broader  and  calmer  thought.  The  scales 
thus  turned,  nature  subordinated  to  man  rather  than 
man  to  nature,  we  would  naturally  conclude  that  here 
surely  human  will  becomes  the  arbiter  of  human  des- 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  31 

tiny;  but  it  is  boldly  claimed  that  a  careful  study  of 
statistics  inevitably  leads  to  a  directly  opposite  conclu- 
sion. By  generalizing  countless  observations  extending 
over  countries  in  different  grades  of  civilization,  with 
different  opinions,  morals,  and  habits  of  life,  a  remark- 
able regularity  in  human  actions  is  professed  to  have 
been  found,  and  this  is  claimed  as  an  incontestable  proof 
that  the  minds  as  well  as  the  bodies  of  men  are  subject 
to  immutable  laws ;  they,  when  freed  from  the  tyranny 
of  nature,  implicitly  obeying  internal  spiritual  enact- 
ments, developing  according  to  the  condition  of  their 
own  organism.  Crimes  of  every  sort,  even  those  ap- 
parently most  arbitrary,  are  professedly  found  from  the 
reports  of  government  officials  to  be  as  uniform  as  the 
ebb  and  flow  of  ocean  tides.  Schools  of  philosophy, 
operations  in  trade,  solemnizations  of  marriage,  even 
aberrations  of  memory,  are  claimed  to  be  marked  by 
the  same  necessary  and  inevitable  system.  Indeed, 
none  of  the  actions  of  men  are  believed  ever  to  be  in- 
consistent, however  capricious  in  appearance,  but  rather 
to  constitute  parts  of  a  scheme  of  universal  order.  The 
progress  of  inquiry  is  becoming  so  rapid  and  earnest  in 
this  direction,  a  confident  expectation  is  expressed  that 
before  another  century  the  chain  of  evidence  for  this 
belief  will  become  complete,  and  it  will  be  as  rare  to 
find  a  historian  who  denies  this  undeviating  regularity 
in  the  mental  world  as  it  now  is  to  find  a  philosopher 
who  denies  it  in  the  physical. 

Such  is  the  Doctrine  of  Averages,  which  Buckle  has 
ransacked  the  libraries  of  every  language  to  prove,  and 
on  which  through  two  ponderous  volumes  he  has  lav- 
ished a  most  brilliant  rhetoric.  To  reduce  history  thus 

5 


82  VIEWS  ON    VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

to  a  science  is,  beyond  mistake,  one  of  the  manifest 
tendencies  of  the  times,  growing  out  of  the  wonderful 
success  that  has  attended  investigations  of  natural  phe- 
nomena. This  new  method  of  research,  studying  man- 
kind en  massej  tabulating  human  actions  into  certain 
averages,  is  no  doubt  destined  to  afford  invaluable  help 
in  the  solution  of  many  a  puzzling  problem  of  life  ;  but 
its  advocates,  instead  of  modestly  regarding  the  results 
thus  far  reached  as  partial  and  imperfect  views  of 
truth,  pronounce  without  hesitancy  as  unscientific,  and 
consequently  false,  the  doctrine  that  men  are  free  and 
that  God  answers  prayer.  However  plausibly  these 
philosophers  may  argue  against  free  will,  so  long  as  they 
classify  human  actions  as  either  virtuous  or  vicious, 
which  is  frequently  done  in  the  pages  of  Buckle,  their 
reasoning  requires  no  refutation,  for  moral  accountabil- 
ity can  never  be  predicated  of  machines.  Only  their 
second  conclusion  need,  therefore,  engage  our  present 
attention. 

Granting  that  modern  science  has  successfully  proved 
that  the  forces  that  produce  intellectual  as  well  as  phys- 
ical phenomena  are  strictly  conditional,  working  by 
unalterably  fixed  methods,  does  it  necessarily  follow 
that  the  effects  of  prayer  are  simply  retroactive,  that 
its  practice  is  but  the  fruit  of  superstitious  ignorance, 
destined  with  it  sooner  or  later  to  disappear?  Horace 
Bushnell,  ably  following  out  the  suggestions  of  another, 
helps  us  to  an  intelligent  negative  answer.  Although 
the  arguments  popularized  by  him  were  designed  solely 
to  remove  objections  urged  by  physicists,  this  new  doc- 
trine not  yet  having  passed  into  print,  I  can  see  no 
reason  why  they  are  not  equally  fatal  to  objections  that 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  83 

grow  out  of  Buckle's  theory  of  thought.  Both  are 
based  on  the  common  error  of  confounding  the  super- 
natural with  the  contra-natural.  The  human  will,  being 
unconditioned  in  its  action,  is  rightly  considered  super- 
natural, though  it  is  wholly  incapable  of  destroying  a 
single  one  of  nature's  forces  or  of  abrogating  a  single 
law.  For  instance,  Flift  a  book.  I  have  not  by  this 
act  destroyed  the  force  of  gravity.  The  book  still  has 
weight :  I  have  simply  overcome  that  force  by  a  supe- 
rior one.  How  the  will  through  the  nerves  contracts 
the  muscles,  no  one  can  tell ;  but  that  it  does,  all  agree. 
God  once  willed  that  an  axe  should  float  upon  the 
water.  It  is  not  necessary  to  suppose  that  he  destroyed 
the  weight  of  that  axe.  It  may  still  have  been  heavier 
than  the  water,  as  the  book  is  still  heavier  than  the 
air.  The  force  of  his  will  for  the  time  being  may 
simply  have  overmastered  the  force  of  gravity,  not 
'destroyed  it. 

Take  another  view  of  the  subject.  God  has  imparted 
to  matter,  as  has  been  remarked,  certain  chemical  forces 
that  remain  inoperative  until  certain  fixed  conditions 
are  fulfilled.  I  hold  in  my  hand  a  match.  There  is 
here  imprisoned  a  devouring  fire-monster.  By  a  single 
stroke  I  comply  with  the  conditions  that  unfetter  it,  and 
it  bursts  into  flame.  That  force,  once  freed,  will,  if  the 
conditions  of  its  action  continue  to  be  complied  with, 
finally  consume  continents  and  convert  oceans  into 
steam.  I  pour  a  few  drops  of  nitro-glycerin  into  a 
mountain  of  solid  granite.  By  the  simple  blow  of  a 
hammer  I  can  break  the  chain  of  the  Titan,  and  the 
mountain  will  be  convulsed  with  earthquake.  Thus  by 
the  strictest  compliance  with  nature's  laws  I  make  ser- 


84  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

vants  of  her  forces.  If  the  human  will,  guided  by  an 
exceedingly  limited  knowledge,  has  been  able  so  wonder- 
fully to  transform  the  face  of  the  earth,  whitening  its 
seas  with  sails,  bridging  its  streams,  tunnelling  its  ranges 
of  mountains,  covering  its  continents  with  a  closely- 
woven  net-work  of  canals,  railroads,  and  telegraphs, 
turning  deserts,  even  ocean-beds,  *into  gardens,  clay  and 
pebbles  into  porcelain  and  plate-glass,  trees  into  tem- 
ples, and  quarries  of  rock  into  pillared  palaces,  why 
may  not  the  Divine  will,  guided  by  an  infinite  knowl- 
edge, accomplish  its  purposes,  as  we  have  already  sug- 
gested, by  precisely  similar  processes  without  the  least 
disturbance  of  natural  law  ?  A  miracle  is  both  super- 
natural and  superhuman,  its  accomplishment  requiring 
stronger  will  and  profounder  knowledge  than  are  within 
man's  reach.  That  Christ  violated  or  annulled  a  single 
natural  law  I  seriously  question,  although  the  evidence 
is  incontestable  that  in  checking  certain  natural  pro- 
cesses and  quickening  others  he  transcended  human 
power.  By  administering  proper  antidotes  at  proper 
seasons  men  have  succeeded  in  arresting  many  diseases 
which  would  have  destroyed  their  victims  had  the  course 
of  nature  been  left  undisturbed,  and  there  are  well- 
authenticated  cases  of  like  results  being  secured  by 
simple  acts  of  will. 

If  Christ  was  gifted  with  an  indefinitely  multiplied 
and  sustained  power  of  will,  embracing  unbounded 
personal  magnetism,  a  point  too  often  overlooked,  and 
was  also  gifted  with  an  intuitive  insight  from  which 
not  a  single  secret  of  nature  was  hidden,  what  disease 
could  he  not  master  ?  Indeed,  what  hinders  us  from 
believing  that  without  the  repeal  of  a  single  phys- 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  85 

ical  law  the  dead  were  by  him  again  quickened  into 
life? 

Apply  this  power  of  will,  if  you  please,  to  the  cur- 
rents of  human  thought.  Grant  that  opinions  are  crys- 
tallized with  as  much  regularity  as  diamonds,  that  the 
laws  in  each  case  are  equally  immutable,  yet,  though 
the  human  will  cannot  stop  the  flow  of  thought,  it  can 
materially  change  its  direction ;  though  it  cannot  annul 
laws  of  association  and  suggestion,  it  can  fix  the  atten- 
tion, and  thus,  by  the  aid  of  those  very  laws,  secure  any 
desired  end.  Grant  that  persons  have  been  powerfully 
influenced  by  natural  scenery,  national  and  social  sur- 
roundings, inherited  restrictions  and  biasses  of  thought, 
that  those  influences  have  left  such  an  indelible  im- 
press that  we  can  readily  detect  the  residence,  parentage, 
pursuit,  and  position  in  life  .of  casual  acquaintances ; 
still  those  same  influences  have  repeatedly  yielded  to 
the  superior  might  of  the  human  will.  Buckle  him- 
self inadvertently  admits  that  great  thinkers  have  ap- 
peared from  time  to  time,  who,  devoting  their  lives  to 
a  single  purpose,  have  been  able  to  anticipate  the  prog- 
ress of  mankind,  and  to  produce  a  new  religion,  or  a 
new  philosophy,  by  which  important  effects  have  been 
eventually  secured ;  that  frequently  their  sentiments 
have  been  so  far  in  advance  of  their  age  as  to  remain 
for  a  long  while  inoperative,  and  to  call  down  upon 
them  the  bitterest  persecution.  He  has  with  the  same 
remarkable  inadvertence  also  admitted  that  the  cause  of 
the  coming  of  these  heralds  and  helpers  of  progress  is 
wholly  unknown.  Here,  it  seems  to  me,  he  has  gratui- 
tously placed  in  the  hands  of  his  opponents  means  for 
a  complete  refutation  of  his  whole  argument.  What 


86  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

hinders  the  belief  that  in  such  cases  God  quietly 
dropped  a  suggestion  and  then  left  it  to  the  control 
of  the  immutable  laws  of  thought?  Is  God  neces- 
sarily shut  out  from  us  any  more  than  we  from  each 
other?  That  men's  wills  are  by  no  means  thus  en- 
slaved, but  that,  on  the  contrary,  the  Divine  sugges- 
tions are  often  scornfully  ruled  out  of  the  mind,  the 
very  presence  of  sin  in  the  world  is  a  sufficient  wit- 
ness ;  that  these  fixed  mental  methods,  instead  of  ex- 
cluding God's  providence,  are  susceptible  of  rendering 
it  invaluable  aid,  scientific  discoveries,  when  once  they 
are  carefully  and  candidly  studied,  most  emphatically 
affirm. 

There  is  another  of  Buckle's  admissions  which  tells 
powerfully  against  him  and  gives  a  peculiar  emphasis 
to  my  last  remark.  It  is  that  nearly  all  advancements 
in  knowledge  have  come  through  deductive  forms  of 
reasoning,  by  first  conceiving  theories,  then  subjecting 
them  to  the  test  of  accredited  facts, — a  remarkable  ad- 
mission from  a  strenuous  advocate  of  Baconian  phi- 
losophy, but  its  truth  was  too  well  known  to  admit  of 
successful  denial.  Whence  came  those  sudden  flashes 
of  thought  that  in  the  fulness  of  the  years  worked 
such  mighty  revolutions  in  human  destiny?  Why  was 
the  mind  so  constituted  as  to  pass  into  those  strangely 
receptive  moods  so  common  to  it,  of  which  we  all 
have  at  times  been  conscious  ?  I  know  of  but  one 
answer. 

Many  Christian  defenders  are  disposed  to  hold  that 
the  course  of  nature  is  nothing  but  God's  will  pro- 
ducing certain  effects  in  a  constant  and  uniform  man- 


THE  SUPERNATURAL.  87 

ner,  every  event  in  nature  being  the  direct  act  of  God. 
They  perhaps  would  apply  to  the  phenomena  of  the 
intellect  this  same  interpretation.  The  formation  of 
a  crystal,  the  opening  of  a  rose-bud,  the  flutter  of  an 
insect,  as  well  as  the  overthrow  of  a  sinful  Sodom, 
would  to  them  imply  the  immediate  presence  and  direct 
volition  of  Divinity. 

Others  hold  that  God  has  foreplanned  everything 
that  has  or  will  come  to  pass,  to  the  minutest  detail  and 
to  the  remotest  time ;  that  each  miracle  of  Christ,  that 
each  answer  to  prayer,  was  fully  provided  for  in  that 
far-off  past  when  planets  and  suns  were  yet  but  un- 
realized thoughts  revolving  in  the  Divine  mind ;  that 
the  whole  universe  is  constructed  like  a  music-box, 
which,  once  wound,  produces  with  unbroken  regularity, 
by  the  arrangement  of  the  posts  on  its  revolving  cylin- 
der, tunes  of  the  widest  selection,  some  of  them  in- 
different, some  discordant,  some  of  surpassing  sweet- 
ness, the  changes  effected  in  nature  and  history  being 
but  the  methodic  movements  of  a  machine, — God 
dwelling  at  an  infinite  distance  from  his  creatures,  no 
longer  actively  interested  in  the  affairs  of  the  world. 

The  first  theory  would  rarely  gain  a  convert  among 
men  of  science ;  the  second  does  violence  to  every 
craving  of  the  heart. 

But  the  theory  which  I  adopt,  and  in  this  paper 
have  attempted  to  prove,  is  that  physical,  and  perhaps 
intellectual,  phenomena  are  due  to  an  efficiency  once 
imparted  by  the  Creator  to  the  earth  and  its  inhabit- 
ants, but  now  abiding  in  them,  operating  apart  from 
himself  and  subject  to  fixed  conditions;  that  through 
compliance  with  these  conditions  the  forces  of  matter 


88  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

and  of  thought  become  servitors  of  the  Divine  will  in 
the  same  way  as  of  the  human,  only  in  an  immeasu- 
rably greater  degree.  This  theory,  I  think,  accords 
most  perfectly  with  the  claims  of  science,  and  enables 
sad  and  discouraged  souls  to  feel  the  warm  grasp  of  the 
hand  of  their  heavenly  Father. 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN. 


I  EEMEMBER  reading  some  years  since  a  very  inge- 
nious paper*  advocating  that  crystallization  is  but  one 
form  of  organic  life.  The  molecules  as  they  take  their 
places,  like  trained  soldiery,  along  certain  lines  inclined 
at  certain  fixed  angles,  seem  to  be  obeying  the  bugle- 
call  of  some  mysterious,  vitalizing  force  within.  There 
is  here  such  oneness  of  conception,  such  concert  of  action, 
that  an  explanation  like  this  very  naturally  suggests  it- 
self. But  these  marvellously  symmetrical  structures  can 
be  crushed,  or  melted,  or  dissolved,  their  atoms  widely 
separated,  their  order  destroyed,  yet  they  will,  when 
again  favorably  circumstanced,  congregate  after  the 
same  set  patterns,  embodying  the  same  conceptions  of 
faultless  form.  Can  it  be  that  when  one  particle  after 
another  of  the  crystal  is  wrenched  from  the  grasp  of 
the  organizing  spirit,  this  spirit,  disembodied,  robbed 
of  its  kingdom,  driven  out  of  matter,  waits  somewhere 
and  watches  until  the  victor  force  has  spent  itself  or 
has  entered  upon  other  conquests,  and  then  suddenly 
retakes  its  throne  and  pronounces  over  the  subject  mole- 
cules the  self-same  spells  of  enchantment  ? 


*Bev.  Dr.  H.  B.  Baker,  in  Psychological  Journal,  July,  1870. 

5*  89 


90  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

This  certainly  is  true  of  no  other  vital  force.  Fur- 
thermore, we  cannot  detect  in  it  that  perpetual  change, 
that  constant  arrival  and  departure  of  atoms,  that  cease- 
less activity,  which  characterize  all  other  life.  .^Eons  of 
time  may  come  and  go,  and  there  will  remain  precisely 
the  same  matter  cast  in  precisely  the  same  mould.  This 
crystalline  spirit,  if  such  there  be,  must  date  its  birth  far 
back  in  that  "  beginning"  of  the  Mosaic  record,  for,  as 
with  it  death  is  at  most  but  a  temporary  suspension  of 
animation,  it  must  have  been  twin-born  with  matter 
itself.  Still,  though  the  majority  of  scientists  conclude 
to  place  it  at  the  head  of  the  class  of  inorganic  forces, 
they  have  but  named  the  mystery,  not  solved  it.  We 
still  stand  confronted  with  the  fact  that  the  atoms  rally 
at  the  bugle-call  of  some  recognized  commander. 

Investigators  have  also  been  puzzled  to  draw  sharply 
the  dividing-line  between  vegetable  and  animal  life. 
There  are  some  plants  that  seem  half  animal ;  some 
animals  that  seem  half  plant.  Touch  the  sensitive  plant, 
even  breathe  upon  it,  and  its  delicate  leaves  fold  together 
and  its  branches  droop  languidly  as  though  through 
their  tissues  lay  a  net- work  of  minute  nerves  and  along 
those  nerves  ran  shudders  of  pain,  even  shocks  of  par- 
alysis. When  the  sun  sets  this  plant  falls  asleep  like  a 
tired  child.  At  this  same  hour,  too,  the  blossoms  of  the 
anemone  close  their  petal  eyelids  and  wait  for  day. 
The  goat's-beard  chooses  an  earlier  hour,  but  is  equally 
regular  in  this  strange  procedure.  The  leaf  of  the 
Venus's  flytrap  with  its  viscid  surface,  or  that  of  the 
sundew  with  its  limed  bristles,  is  but  a  net  spread  for 
some  unwary  insect.  Let  the  little  creature  seek  to 
rest  its  feet  never  so  lightly,  and  its  doom  is  sealed. 


MENTAL   LIFE  BELOW   THE  HUMAN.  91 

While  it  is  struggling  desperately  to  free  itself,  the 
sides  of  the  leaf  close  in  over  it  like  the  lids  of  fate, 
and  the  plant  drinks  its  blood  with  the  heartlessness 
and  greed  of  a  spider. 

Dr.  Carpenter,  in  his  "  Introduction  to  the  Study  of 
the  Foraminifera,"*  says,  "  The  physiologist  has  a  case 
in  which  those  vital  operations,  which  he  is  elsewhere 
accustomed  to  see  carried  on  by  an  elaborate  apparatus, 
are  performed  without  any  special  instruments  what- 
ever; a  little  particle  of  apparently  homogeneous  jelly 
changing  itself  into  a  greater  variety  of  forms  than  the 
fabled  Proteus,  laying  hold  of  its  food  without  mem- 
bers, swallowing  it  without  a  mouth,  digesting  it  with- 
out a  stomach,  appropriating  its  nutritious,  material  with- 
out absorbent  vessels  or  a  circulating  system,  moving 
from  place  to  place  without  muscles,  feeling,  if  it  has  any 
power  to  feel,  without  nerves,  propagating  itself  without 
genital  organs,  and  not  only  this,  but  in  many  instances 
forming  shelly  coverings  of  a  symmetry  and  complex- 
ity not  surpassed  by  those  of  any  testaceous  animals." 

While  some  plants  have  stomachs,  some  animals  have 
roots.  The  rhizocephalous  crustaceans  do  not  feed  by 
mouth,  for  they  are  destitute  of  an  alimentary  canal,  but 
live  by  absorbing  through  root-like  processes  the  juices 
of  the  animals  on  which  they  are  parasitic.  The  jelly- 
fish is  a  transparent  and  also  almost  structureless  mass 
of  vitalized  matter.  As  it  rises  and  sinks  in  the  wave 
it  seems  little  else  than  delicately  tinted  sunlight,  caught 
in  some  wandering  eddy.  Take  it  from  the  water,  and 
it  fades  to  a  film. 

*  Preface,  p.  8. 


92  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

Trembley,*  the  naturalist,  once  chanced  upon  some 
strange  forms  of  diminutive  water-life,  which  for  a  time 
he  was  at  a  loss  how  to  interpret.  They  were  insect- 
eaters,  their  cylindrical  bodies  having  fringed  ends  with 
which  they  seized  their  prey.  Trembley  in  the  course 
of  his  experiments  cut  them  into  as  many  as  fifty  pieces, 
and,  to  his  astonishment,  found  that  instead  of  destroy- 
ing life  he  had  but  multiplied  it,  for  in  forty-eight  hours 
each  piece  became  a  distinct  individual.  He  also  found 
on  these  living  cylinders  a  number  of  small  adventitious 
buds,  cropping  out  everywhere,  which  gradually  en- 
larged, sent  out  tentacles  on  their  free  ends,  and  finally 
dropped  off"  into  perfect  beings.  These  pseudo-plants 
are  now  known  as  one  of  many  species  of  polyps,  of 
which  other  equally  strange  facts  have  come  to  light. 
The  larvsef  that  are  hatched  from  the  eggs  of  the  Au- 
relia  swim  about  very  lively  for  a  couple  of  days,  and 
then,  as  if  tired  out,  anchor  themselves  to  the  floor  of 
the  sea.  This  done,  they  grow  up  into  long  slender 
stalks  with  enlarged  tops,  in  the  centre  of  each  of  which 
a  hole  opens,  uncovering  a  cavity,  and  around  the  hole 
little  buds  appear  that  lengthen  at  last  into  limber  fila- 
ments. Thus  equipped,  these  creatures  never  again 
move  from  their  moorings.  After  a  while  the  surfaces 
of  these  stems  are  rougllened  here  and  there  with  buds, 
some  of  which  unfold  without  further  delay  into  per- 
fect polyps ;  while  out  from  others  slender  shoots  com- 
mence trailing  along  the  ground,  until,  at  some  secret 


*  A.   de  Qualrefages'   "  Metamorphoses  of   Man  and  Lower 
Animals,"  pp.  137-38. 
f  Ibid  ,  pp.  153-55. 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.  93 

signal,  their  ends  widen  out  into  mouths  with  fringed 
borders  and  a  new  individual  life  begins.  Are  these 
some  rare  variety  of  strawberry-plants  that  flourish  in 
Neptune's  sea-gardens?  But  here  and  there  one  of 
these  trumpet-shaped  bodies  becomes  cylindrical  and 
three  or  four  times  the  length  of  its  fellows,  and  soon 
just  beneath  its  fringed  end  a  groove  makes  its  appear- 
ance, as  if  some  invisible  cord  was  being  drawn  tightly 
about  it ;  then  another  a  little  farther  down,  and  then 
another,  until  the  cylinder  is  changed  into  a  series  of 
rings.  As  the  grooves  deepen,  the  edges  of  the  rings 
become  scolloped,  and  their  wave-lines  gradually  more 
marked  until  they  are  changed  into  eight  little  arms 
with  forked  ends.  This  process  of  individual ization 
goes  on  until  each  fringe  of  arms  acquires  an  independ- 
ent motion  and  until  at  last  a  complete  separation  is 
effected,  one  wheel  after  another  swimming  away  with 
as  distinct  and  perfect  a  nature  as  falls  to  the  lot  of  any 
radiate,  each  destined  to  become  the  founder  of  a  new 
family  somewhere  along  the  populous  ocean-bottoms. 

From  the  egg  of  another  species,*  called  the  Cam- 
panularia,  springs  a  larva,  which,  after  it  has  fastened 
itself  to  something  solid,  is  changed  into  a  little  flat 
cake  with  a  hole  in  the  centre.  About  this  hole  there 
shoots  up  a  hollow  stem,  and  on  the  end  of  the  stem 
there  comes  a  bud,  which  swells  out  into  the  shape  of 
an  inverted  bell.  After  certain  changes  have  taken 
place  inside  its  horny  covering,  a  new  polyp  with  ten- 
tacled  mouth  bursts  through  the  membrane  and  unfolds 
like  an  opening  flower.  Then  another  bud  appears  on 

*  Quatrefages,  pp.  173-74. 


94  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   qUESTIONS. 

the  stalk,  and  the  same  process  is  repeated,  branch  after 
branch  growing  out  of  the  bowl  of  the  stem.  In  the 
axils  of  the  branches  more  buds  come  and  they  blossom 
out  into  more  polyps. 

Corals  and  stone-lilies,  now  known  as  the  fossil  skel- 
etons of  polyps,  were,  until  the  last  century,  regarded 
as  rock-plants.  The  nature  of  sponges  has,  among 
naturalists,  long  been,  and  to  some  extent  still  is,  a 
matter  of  question.  Indeed,  there  are  several  phenom- 
ena which  are  catalogued  under  the  non-committal 
name  zoophytes,  a  combination  of  two  Greek  words  cor- 
responding in  our  language  to  "animal"  and  " plant." 

In  the  propagation  of  the  Epistylis,  an  infusoria,* 
we  find  the  semblance  to  vegetable  life  carried  a  step 
farther.  It  multiplies  both  by  buds  and  fission.  The 
individual  that  develops  from  the  larva  divides  itself 
into  halves.  On  each  half,  which  still  remains  joined 
to  the  parent  stem,  another  branch  starts  and  grows  to 
the  same  height.  These  secondary  stems  also  in  time 
divide  as  the  first,  and  so  with  the  third  and  succeeding 
ones,  until  the  colony  presents  the  form  of  a  wide- 
spreading  tree,  from  the  tip  of  each  of  whose  branches 
opens  the  hungry  mouth  of  an  Epistylis.  Here  and 
there  around  the  neck  of  one  and  another  of  these  ani- 
mals a  groove  appears,  and  about  the  groove  a  circle  of 
fine  hairs.  The  fissure  continues  to  deepen  until,  like 
a  ripe  acorn,  this  strange  fruit  at  last  drops  to  the  foot 
of  the  tree.  But,  instead  of  lying  there  like  an  acorn, 
it  picks  itself  up  and  swims  away  to  root  fast  to  some 
other  rock  and  become  the  starting-point  of  another 

*  Quatrefages,  pp.  194-95. 


MENTAL  LIFE   BELOW   THE  HUMAN.          95 

tree  in  that  mysterious,  miniature  sea-forest  God  first 
planted  away  back  when  the  world  was  young. 

These  forms  of  being  unquestionably  mark  transi- 
tion-periods in  creation.  We  surely  witness  in  them 
new  departures  in  nature, — advances  upon  the  lower 
forms,  with  but  a  partial  attainment  of  the  higher. 
They  are  the  gray  twilight  of  dawn  into  whose  texture 
are  woven  the  fading  threads  of  the  old  era  and  the 
faintest  threads  of  the  new.  They  lie  along  that 
border-line  where  the  adjacent  colors  of  the  rainbow 
mingle.  Yet,  strange  as  it  may  seem,  they  furnish  no 
basis  for  the  hypothesis  of  Evolution,  for  their  organs 
and  habits  have,  without  perceptible  change,  main- 
tained their  ground  against  all  the  supposed  developing 
impulses  of  all  the  ages.  By  no  influences  of  their  nat- 
ural environment,  or  of  any  artificial  surroundings  of 
man's  devising,  have  they  been  advanced  a  hair's  breadth 
from  the  good  old  ways  of  their  earliest  ancestors. 

And  right  here,  too,  the  theory  of  spontaneous  gen- 
eration, the  establishment  of  which,  extreme  evolution- 
ists hold,  completes  the  chain  of  evidence  that  the  origi- 
nal nebulae  of  amorphic  matter  contained  the  promise 
and  potency  of  all  life, — this  theory,  as  Quatrefages 
contends,  is  overthrown  from  its  lowest  foundations  in 
the  discovery  of  the  law  of  geneagenesis.  This  emi- 
nent French  savant  asserts*  that  all  known  species, 
down  to  the  very  lowest  in  the  scale  of  existence,  in  the 
vegetable  as  well  as  animal  kingdom,  however  widely 
for  a  time  they  may  seem  to  depart  from  the  ordinary 
mode  of  reproduction,  must,  at  stated  periods,  have  re- 

*  Quatrefages,  p.  280. 


96  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

course  to  it  or  become  extinct.  For  example,  several 
generations  of  virgin  aphides  may  be  produced,  and 
Bonnet,*  in  his  experiments,  has  demonstrated  this 
possible;  yet,  after  a  while,  not  only  must  females  se- 
crete true  ova,  but  males  must  fertilize  them,  in  order 
to  secure  a  renewal  of  the  pristine  vigor  of  the  species. 
The  same  is  true  of  the  ascidians.  So,  too,  propaga- 
tion by  buds  and  fission  is  not  perpetual.  Polyps  and 
infusoria  may  multiply  for  a  certain  set  season  without 
the  union  of  the  sexes,  but  there  are,  nevertheless,  and 
must  be,  regularly  appointed  recurrences  of  the  contact 
of  sperm  and  germ,  and  in  the  individuals  that  spring 
from  this  union  reappears  the  original  plenitude  of 
power.  However  long  and  tortuous  may  be  the  wind- 
ings of  the  route  chosen  by  nature  in  certain  cases,  it  is 
clearly  defined,  and  ends  where  it  began,  in  fertilized 
ova.  Such  being  the  universal  and  invariable  law, 
each  species  must  be  the  descendants  of  a  single  first 
pair,  possessing  correlated  sexual  parts  and  functions, 
the  possible  product  only  of  some  direct,  intelligent, 
creative  fiat.  Thus  the  profoundest  researches  of  sci- 
ence confirm  the  statements  of  the  inspired  Seer. 

Descartes  and  his  followers,  in  their  arguments 
against  the  existence  of  a  soul,  have  cited  the  case  of 
some  of  these  pseudo-plants,  to  which  we  have  briefly 
alluded.  If,  after  a  polyp  has  been  severed  into  fifty 
pieces,  a  new  head  and  tail  will  bud  out  of  the  cut  ends 
of  each  piece,  and  the  processes  of  life  go  on  without 
abatement;  if  infusoria  can  of  themselves  divide  and 
subdivide  until,  by  spontaneous  fission,  a  populous  col- 

*  Quatrefages,  pp.  130-81. 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.          97 

ony  springs  from  a  single  progenitor;  if  the  cylindrical 
Aurelia  can  cut  itself  into  a  dozen  slices,  and  each  slice 
become  an  independent  being, — then  we  are  necessarily 
precluded  from  predicating  of  these  and  like  types  of 
existence  the  possession  of  a  spiritual  nature,  indeed,  of 
any  proper  personality,  for  an  ego  that  is  not  absolutely 
indivisible  is  to  us  an  impossible  conception.  But  when 
these  theorists  predicate  of  the  entire  kingdom  what  has 
thus  far  been  discovered  true  only  of  certain  inferior 
classes  in  it,  the  soundness  of  their  induction  may  well 
be  questioned. 

The  fact  that  all  classes  of  animals,  without  ex- 
ception, even  foraminifera,  polyps,  infusoria,  and  earth- 
worms, possess  in  some  of  their  individuals,  at  a  cer- 
tain stage  of  their  existence,  the  power  of  locomotion, 
would  at  first  blush  seem  to  indicate  that  their  bodies 
were  indeed  the  homes  of  spirits ;  but  on  the  closest  ex- 
amination we  can  find  no  sign  of  self-consciousness, 
such  as  halting  between  two  opinions,  deliberating,  ex- 
ercising the  power  of  choice, — no  distinctive  act  of  the 
will.  Their  motions  may  be,  from  all  that  yet  appears, 
as  automatic  and  unconscious  as  the  folding  together  of 
the  leaves  of  the  sensitive  plant,  for  they  seem  to  fol- 
low with  as  rigid  a  uniformity  and  as  absolute  a  cer- 
tainty the  exciting  cause.  This  locomotive  power  is, 
with  several  classes,  but  a  momentary  possession,  dis- 
appearing as  mysteriously  as  it  came,  the  animal  no 
sooner  striking  a  rock  than  it  roots  to  it  and  sinks 
down  at  once  and  forever  into  the  plant-like  stolidity 
of  the  colonized  multitude  that  sprout  out  afterward 
about  its  lengthening  stem. 

There  is  another  type  of  transitional  beings  in  which 


98  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

may  be  traced  characteristics  of  widely  divergent 
classes.  The  most  skilled  anatomists  are  still  disputing 
whether  the  Lepidosiren,  even  when  in  an  adult  state, 
is  fish  or  reptile.  There  are  fish  that  will  with  their 
long  pectoral  fins  sustain  themselves  a  full  half-minute 
in  mid-air  and  accomplish  a  flight  of  six  hundred  feet. 
There  are  squirrels  whose  fore  and  hind  legs  are  so 
connected  by  membranes  that  they  actually  wing  their 
way  from  tree  to  tree,  their  leaps  measuring  wide  dis- 
tances. There  are  mammals  called  rear-mice,  or  bats, 
which  at  twilight  emerge  from  caverns  or  deserted 
ruins,  or  the  hollows  of  moss-grown  trees,  and  flit 
noiselessly  about  on  distended,  leathery  webs,  robbing 
the  air  of  any  gay  insect  that  may  be  gadding  about. 
Seals  are  air-breathing  quadrupeds  that  suckle  their 
young,  yet  their  habitat  is  the  sea,  their  legs  are  like 
the  fins  of  fishes,  and  their  nostrils  they  have  power  to 
open  and  close.  One  of  their  species  nature  has  dressed 
in  the  spotted  skin  of  the  leopard  ;  the  males  of  another 
resemble  the  elephant  in  their  lengthened  probosces  and 
contour  of  head ;  while  those  of  a  third  have  lions' 
faces  and  about  their  necks  flowing  lions'  manes.  The 
dolphin,"  the  sword-fish,  the  porpoise,  the  grampus,  are 
all  air-breathing  and  warm-blooded  mammals,  yet 
finned  and  shaped  like  fish,  and  like  them  propelled  by 
their  tails.  Eels  are  classed  among  fishes,  yet  their  ser- 
pent nature  has  drawn  out  their  bodies  into  snake-like 
length  and  slimness  and  stripped  them  of  ventral  fins 
and  diminished  and  obscured  their  scales. 

Geologists*  tell  us  of  bulky-bodied  saurians  that  once 

*WincheH's  "  Sketches  of  Creation." 


MENTAL   LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.          99 

peopled  the  seas  and  the  air,  one  genus  of  which,  the 
ichthyosaurus,  was  shaped  like  a  dolphin,  had  the  head 
of  a  lizard,  the  teeth  of  a  crocodile,  and  the  paddles  of 
a  whale ;  another,  the  plesiosaurus,  had  the  head  of  a 
lizard,  the  teeth  of  a  crocodile,  the  neck  of  a  swan,  the 
trunk  and  head  of  a  quadruped,  and  the  extremities  of 
a  whale ;  while  still  another,  the  pterodactyl,  of  twenty 
different  species,  resembled  externally  both  mammal 
and  bird,  but  in  its  essential  structure  was  clearly  rep- 
tilian, the  individuals  of  some  of  whose  species  were 
veritable  flying  dragons  with  a  sixteen-foot  spread  of 
wing. 

The  younger  Huber  proved,  by  frequent  observa- 
tions and  experiments,  which  he  most  interestingly 
narrates  in  his  work  on  Ants,*  that  the  female  red  ant, 
after  fecundation,  bids  good-by  to  her  lover,  who  at 
once  ingloriously  steps  out  of  life  ;  that  she  then  strips 
oif,  with  her  own  mandibles,  at  her  own  instance,  and 
seemingly  without  pain,  the  delicate  gossamer  wings 
with  which  nature  has  provided  her  for  courtship  and 
for  easy  and  rapid  transit  in  search  of  a  suitable  site  for 
the  new  colony  she  is  destined  to  establish ;  and  that 
she  ever  after  creeps  about  in  the  grass,  laying  her  eggs 
and  feeding  and  caring  for  her  young  as  contentedly  as 
if  she  had  never  possessed  anything  but  short,  hair-like 
legs  to  move  her  little  body  about,  like  the  common 
neuters,  the  nurses  and  maids-at-all-work. 

The  Ephemeronf  for  two  years  lives  in  an  archiform 
gallery  which  it  has  bored  in  some  river-bank,  below 
the  water-level,  grinding  monotonously  day  after  day 

*  Pages  116-17.  f  Quatrefages,  pp.  77-78. 


100  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

the  slimy  mud  upon  which  it  feeds.  It  walks  on  six 
legs,  and  yet  it  breathes  like  a  fish.  When  the  two 
years  are  ended,  rudimentary  wings  bud  out  of  the  up- 
per part  of  its  thorax,  and  at  last,  in  the  quiet  twilight 
of  some  August  evening,  its  old  skin  cracks  open  and 
falls  off  like  a  ripe  chestnut-bur,  and  with  it,  too,  fall 
the  gills  and  grinding  jaws,  and  out  comes  the  little 
creature  so  marvellously  metamorphosed  in  its  outward 
furnishings  that  it  is  hard  to  convince  ourselves  that  an 
absolutely  new  creation  has  not  taken  place  right  before 
our  very  eyes.  In  its  new  life,  spanned  by  a  single 
brief  hour,  it  abstains  from  food,  having  no  mouth  fit 
to  receive  it;  it  breathes  the  air  through  spiracles, 
poises  itself  on  finely  reticulated  wings,  thrills  to  love's 
rapture,  deposits  its  masses  of  eggs,  and  then,  with  the 
fading  twilight,  flits  from  the  scene.  All  insects  are 
characterized  by  similar  series  of  metamorphoses.  In- 
deed, all  animal  life,  even  the  human,  experiences  an- 
alogous changes,  though  these  developments,  with  the 
majority,  occur  while  the  young  are  still  unborn. 

Nowhere  in  the  animal  kingdom  is  there  so  favor- 
able an  opportunity  for  peeping  into  nature's  workshop 
as  in  the  metamorphoses  of  the  frog.  This  animal*  is 
a  worm  when  it  comes  from  the"  egg,  and  remains  such 
the  first  four  days  of  its  life,  having  neither  eyes,  nor 
ears,  nor  nostrils,  nor  respiratory  organs.  It  crawls. 
It  breathes  through  its  skin.  After  a  while  a  neck  is 
grooved  into  the  flesh.  Its  soft  lips  are  hardened  into 
a  horny  beak.  The  different  organs,  one  after  another, 
bud  out,  then  a  pair  of  branching  gills,  and  last  a  long 

*  Quatrefages,  pp.  89-91. 


MENTAL  LIFE  BftI,G'\V  'THE' 

and  limber  tail.  The  worm  has  become  a  fish.  Three 
or  four  days  more  elapse,  and  the  gills  sink  back  into 
the  body,  while  in  their  place  others  come,  much  more 
complex,  arranged  in  vascular  tufts,  one  hundred  and 
twelve  in  each.  But  they,  too,  have  their  day,  and  are 
absorbed,  together  with  their  frame-work  of  bone  and 
cartilage,  to  be  succeeded  by  an  entirely  different  breath- 
ing apparatus,  the  initial  of  a  second  correlated  group 
of  radical  changes.  Lungs  are  developed,  the  mouth 
widened,  the  horny  beak  converted  into  rows. of  teeth; 
the  stomach,  the  abdomen,  the  intestines,  prepared  for 
the  reception  of  animal  food  in  place  of  vegetable ; 
four  limbs,  fully  equipped  with  hip-  and  shoulder- bones, 
with  nerves  and  blood-vessels,  push  out  through  the 
skin ;  while  the  tail,  being  now  supplanted  by  them  as 
a  means  of  locomotion,  is  carried  away  piecemeal  by 
the  absorbents,  and  the  animal  passes  the  remainder  of 
its  days  as  an  air-breathing  and  flesh-eating  batrachian. 
In  this  second  group  of  phenomena  investigators 
have  been  as  greatly  puzzled  as  in  the  first  to  draw 
sharply  the  dividing-line  between  the  various  classes 
into  which,  according  to  Agassiz,  are  separated  the  four 
great  types  of  the  animal  kingdom.  True,  they  have 
pretty  generally  agreed  to  assign  animals  to  those  classes 
in  which  they  last  appear.  But  the  ephemera,  for  in- 
stance, are  only  for  a  single  hour  winged  insects,  while 
for  two  long  years  preceding  they  are  a  combination  of 
fish  and  worm.  So,  too,  locusts  burrow  in  the  ground 
as  grubs  for  seven  years,  and  sometimes  for  a  longer 
term,  before  they  fill  the  air  with  the  roar  of  their 
wings.  And  it  is  only  for  six  weeks  they  are  permitted 
to  revel  in  this  freer,  gayer  life.  They  eat  nothing, 


-ox  VEXUD  QUESTIONS. 

subsisting  simply  on  the  deposits  of  fat  packed  away 
under  their  skins  during  those  long  years  in  which  they 
crawled  through  galleries  sunk  far  out  of  reach  of  both 
sun  and  frost.  Their  sole  business  now  seems  to  be, 
like  the  ephemera,  to  deposit  the  eggs  out  of  which  shall 
come  the  new  generation.  And  then  there  are  other 
forms,  in  each  of  which,  even  in  the  adult  state,  are  so 
deftly  joined  essential  characteristics  of  two,  three,  some- 
times even  more,  classes,  that  they  have  baffled  the  in- 
genuity of  scientists  to  properly  label  them. 

When  man  was  placed  on  the  scene,  there  was,  I  be- 
lieve, an  entirely  new  departure  in  creation,  a  departure 
as  radical  as  when  animal  life  first  came  to  share  the 
earth  with  the  vegetable.  Before  man's  advent  there 
was  the  reign  of  instinct ;  with  it  was  ushered  in  that  of 
reason.  Chemists  have,  by  their  experiments,  brought 
to  light  many  striking  contrasts  between  the  vegetable 
and  animal  forces  in  their  effects  on  matter.  Contrasts 
equally  striking  exist,  as  I  purpose  showing,  between 
instinct  and  reason  respecting  their  sources  of  knowledge 
and  the  character  and  methods  of  their  work.  I  also 
propose  to  show  that  as  characteristics  of  plant  and 
animal  are,  as  we  have  seen,  sometimes  strangely  inter- 
woven in  a  single  organism,  and  also  as  important  parts 
in  the  bodily  form  and  function  of  widely  divergent 
classes  are  found  not  infrequently  coexisting  or  follow- 
ing each  other  in  unbroken  sequence  in  the  same  indi- 
vidual, so  instinct  and  reason,  though  differing  as  radi- 
cally as  the  animating  principles  of  plant  and  animal, 
and  though  as  little  likely  to  have  been  the  outgrowth 
one  of  the  other,  yet  are  found  in  each  other's  company, 
serving  as  each  other's  complement  and  support  when- 


MENTAL   LIFE  BELOW   THE  HUMAN.         1Q3 

ever  any  exigency  arises  whose  demands  they  are  sepa- 
rately incompetent  to  meet.  It  has  therefore  proved 
equally  difficult  to  draw  sharply  the  dividing-line  be- 
tween the  kingdoms  of  these  two  forces,  or  to  determine 
the  mental  status  of  those  of  God's  creatures  who  occupy 
planes  inferior  to  our  own. 

Many  theories  have  been  advanced,  but  none  have 
proved  sufficiently  tenable  to  have  silenced  controversy. 
Indeed,  I  know  of  no  question  on  which  opinion  is 
more  afloat  than  that  of  the  thought-life  of  the  lower 
sentient  creatures  that  so  throng  the  waters,  the  earth, 
and  the  air. 

Instinct  I  conceive  to  be  an  impulse  implanted  in  an 
organism  to  aid  in  its  development  and  maintenance. 
It  is  as  much  a  part  of  an  organism  as  an  appetite,  and 
is  followed  as  blindly.  The  intelligence  and  skill  dis- 
played in  the  marvellous  works  accomplished  under  its 
guidance  belong  to  its  Author,  not  its  owner.  It  oper- 
ates with  as  undeviating  uniformity  as  the  force  that 
organizes  a  crystal  or  a  tree,  or  the  shell-palace  of  a 
foraminifera.  Its  workmanship  bears  the  same  marks 
of  Divine  perfection.  The  animal  is  as  ignorant  of  the 
ends  to  be  attained,  or  of  the  adaptation  of  the  means 
employed,  as  it  is  when,  prompted  by  hunger  or  thirst, 
it  supplies  its  body  with  appropriate  nourishment. 
The  ideas  embodied  are  no  more  a  measure  of  the  con- 
scious thought-life  of  the  animal,  than  those  embodied 
in  the  processes  whereby  its  digestive  organs  elaborate 
its  food  into  bones  and  muscle.  The  thinking  is  that 
of  the  Creator,  not  of  the  creature.  It,  however,  would 
be  as  idle  for  us  to  attempt  to  pry  into  the  mystery  of 
its  real  essence,  as  into  that  of  the  force  under  whose 


104  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

direction  the  buried  seed  bursts  its  walls,  and  dew,  air, 
soil,  and  sunlight  are  moulded  into  branch  and  leaf  and 
flower  and  rounded  fruit ;  or  to  attempt  to  fathom  the 
mystery  of  that  force  which  hardens  into  horn  the  pulpy 
lips  of  a  crawling,  skin-breathing  worm,  pushes  out 
here  a  pair  of  branching  gills  and  there  a  limber  tail, 
and  then,  when  the  pattern  changes,  quietly  brushes 
these  aside  and  in  their  place  builds  up  lungs  and  teeth 
and  jointed  limbs,  and  alters  the  processes  of  digestion, 
transforming  thus  a  worm  first  into  a  fish,  and  after- 
ward into  an  air-breathing,  flesh-feeding  batrachian. 
But  on  examining  the  phenomena,  which  alone  are 
within  our  reach,  I  have  been  deeply  impressed  with 
the  intimate  analogy  I  have  found  existing  between  in- 
stinct, in  the  character  and  methods  of  its  work,  and 
those  forces  which  build  up  vegetable  and  animal  or- 
ganisms, and  am  persuaded  to  believe  that  it  also  should 
be  grouped  with  them  as  a  kindred  formative  force, 
and  that  hence  its  marvellous  achievements  should  not 
be  regarded  at  all  as  revelations  of  the  Mental  Life  be- 
low the  Human.  I  will  cite  a  few  of  the  facts  which 
I  think  fully  justify  this  conclusion. , 

Autenrieth,  the  celebrated  German  naturalist,  has 
described  for  us  the  metamorphoses  through  which  pass 
the  individuals  of  a  species  of  butterfly  named  by  him 
Nachtpfauenauge.  Its  grub-life,  like  all  of  the  same 
genus,  is  one  of  unbroken  monotony  and  dulness.  The 
sum-total  of  its  experiences  consists  in  gorging  on  leaf- 
pulp,  crawling  under  cover  when  it  rains,  and  now  and 
then  casting  its  skin.  It  has  no  home-life,  its  parents 
having  died  before  it  began  to  live.  It  has  no  com- 
panionship; it  seeks  none.  This  sluggish,  solitary, 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        1Q5 

gormandizing,  creeping  worm  is  at  a  certain  set  time 
suddenly  arrested  by  the  electric  thrill  of  some  new 
strange  life.  It  stops  eating,  and,  under  a  mysterious, 
prophetic  impulse,  commences  to  weave  about  its  body, 
out  of  delicate  threads  that  issue  from  it,  a  silken  palace 
of  double-roof,  so  ingeniously  braced  by  innumerable 
supports  that  it  both  withstands  violent  attacks  from 
without,  and  yields  to  the  almost  spirit-touch,  from 
within,  of  that  most  fragile  of  fairies  which,  out  of  the 
homely  and  prone  body  of  the  grub,  rises  erewhile,  on 
brilliantly- tinted  wings,  to  flutter  and  float  like  a  stray 
bit  of  sunset  on  a  summer's  evening  zephyr.  By  this 
unique  contrivance  this  little  creature  escapes  on  the 
one  hand  from  outside  violence,  and  on  the  other  from 
the  sad  fate  of  self-burial. 

Is  it  conceivable  that  this  worm  possesses  such  inti- 
mate acquaintance  with  the  occult  laws  of  mechanics  as 
this  piece  of  work  presupposes,  that  it  has  acquired,  by 
its  own  exertions,  this  masterful  skill  in  architecture, 
or  that  it  really  discerns  with  clear  prophetic  vision 
approaching  changes  in  its  form,  its  capacities,  its  needs, 
and  its  destiny  ?  It  has  had  no  instructor,  no  personal 
experience,  no  working  model.  This  is  its  first  attempt, 
yet  it  bears  the  stamp  of  absolute  perfection. 

The  butterflies  of  other  species,  when  the  hour  is  ripe 
for  them  to  issue  from  their  cocoons,  secrete  a  fluid  that 
acts  on  the  silk  as  a  solvent.  This  grub,  as  if  conscious 
from  the  first  that  such  power  will  never  be  given  it, 
constructs  its  case  on  widely  different  principles.  To 
affirm  that  it  inherits  this  knowledge,  skill,  and  presci- 
ence does  not,  in  the  least,  clear  up  the  mystery;  it 
only  carries  the  inquiry  farther  back,  for  the  first  grub 

6 


106  VIEWS   ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

must  have  been  equally  able  to  spin  a  similar  cocoon  on 
first  trial,  or  it  never  could  have  developed  into  a 
butterfly  and  become  the  progenitor  of  a  species. 

The  Iarv83  of  ants,*  though  they  can  never  secrete  a 
solvent,  unhesitatingly  enclose  themselves  in  silk  wrap- 
pings, that  bind  them  as  firmly  as  bands  of  steel.  It 
would  be  utterly  impossible  for  them,  left  to  their  own 
resources,  ever  to  break  through  the  walls  of  their  case. 
Do  they  know  that  they  will  be  provided  with  profes- 
sional nurses  who,  somehow,  will  be  such  adepts  in  their 
calling  that  they  will  cut  the  binding  threads  at  pre- 
cisely the  right  time,  will  free  and  extend  the  delicate 
gossamer  wings  of  their  infant  charge,  and  for  a  season 
serve  as  their  guides  and  purveyors? 

The  larvae  of  queen-bees  also  spin  for  themselves 
silken  sheaths,  yet,  strange  to  say,  they  leave  these  at 
the  exposed  ends  so  imperfect  that  when  a  young  queen 
assumes  sovereignty  she  easily  inserts  her  sting,  thus 
killing  in  their  cradles  all  those  who  otherwise  would 
have  soon  become  powerful  contestants  for  the  crown. 
Huber  assertsf  that  this  murderous  instinct  manifests 
itself  almost  immediately  after  birth,  but  if  the  elder 
neuters  judge  it  best  for  the  hive  to  swarm,  the  queen 
is  restrained  by  a  strong  guard,  who  drive  her  away 
from  one  cell  after  another,  until,  her  excitement  rising 
with  each  repulse,  and  spreading  like  a  contagion 
through  the  colony,  she  precipitately  sallies  from  the 
hive  followed  by  a  vast  retinue  of  sympathizing  attend- 
ants. When,  however,  it  is  thought  inexpedient  to  fur- 
ther weaken  the  community,  the  queen  is  left  free  to 

*  Huber  on  Ants,  p.  117.  f  On  Bees,  p.  147. 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        1Q7 

destroy  all  the  seed  royal  with  her  poisoned  dagger. 
Why  should  these  larvse,  in  marked  contrast  to  those  of 
drones  and  neuters,  always  leave  crevices  in  their  cra- 
dles, so  that  some  royal  assassin  in  a  fit  of  jealousy  can 
murder  them  in  their  sleep  ?  Have  they  been  informed 
that  a  single  queen  can  lay  between  two  and  three 
thousand  eggs  daily,  and  therefore  be  abundantly  able 
of  herself  to  populate  the  hive?  Do  they  anticipate 
that  if  allowed  to  live  they  will  become  burdensome 
supernumeraries,  except  in  rare  crises,  and  are  they 
prompted  by  exalted  patriotism  when  they  provide  thus 
for  their  own  early  martyrdom  ? 

The  saw-fly,  after  making  her  double  incision  in  the 
stem  of  a  rose-bush,  so  poisons  the  tissues  of  the  wood 
that  the  minute  eggs  she  deposits  are  saved  from  being 
grown  over  and  thus  hopelessly  crushed  or  imprisoned. 
She  also  so  limits  the  number  of  eggs  on  any  one  bush 
that  her  children  never  go  hungry.  Does  she  under- 
stand the  effects  of  the  poison  ?  Does  she  realize  the 
imminent  danger  to  which  her  eggs  are  exposed  ?  Has 
she  consciously  contrived  how  to  avert  it  ? 

By  poison,  locusts  also  provide  for  the  safety  of  their 
young.  The  branches  of  the  forests  visited  by  their 
innumerable  multitudes  look  as  withered  as  if  struck 
with  blight  or  swept  by  a  tempest  of  fire. 

The  solitary  wasp*  brings  to  the  mouth  of  a  pit 
which  she  has  dug  with  her  mandibles,  and  into  which 
she  has  dropped  an  egg,  a  given  number  of  small  grubs  so 
stung  that  their  bodies,  while  smitten  with  paralysis, 
have  just  enough  life  left  to  keep  them  from  decay 

*  Encyc,  Brit. 


108  VIEWS  ON    VEXED  QUESTIONS. 

until  there  shall  issue  from  the  egg  the  worm,  whose 
hungry  maw  they  are  fated  to  fill.  This  solitary 
mother- wasp,  with  absolutely  no  experience  or  observa- 
tion of  her  own  or  of  others  to  guide  her,  acts  as  if  she 
knew  positively  not  only  that  a  worm  would  some  day 
be  hatched  from  her  egg,  but  precisely  when  that  day 
would  come ;  that  this  worm  would  not  have  the  fac- 
ulty to  care  for  itself,  and  that  she  would  never  live  to 
care  for  it ;  that  grub-meat,  though  unpalatable  to  her, 
would  be  keenly  relished  by  it ;  that  a  given  number  of 
grubs  would  suffice  for  its  needs ;  and  that  they,  shot 
through  with  her  subtle  poison,  would  lie  dormant  till 
it  came. 

This  same  acute  discrimination  may  be  observed  in 
all  insects  in  selecting  for  their  egg-deposits  such  sur- 
roundings as  will  most  surely  conduce  to  the  hatching 
and  subsequent  maintenance  of  their  young,  although 
the  conditions  of  their  offspring's  life  are  in  most 
marked  contrast  to  their  own.  One  will  choose  a  par- 
ticular kind  of  leaf,  another  the  skin  of  a  certain  living 
animal,  still  another  that  of  a  certain  dead  one.  Guided 
by  this  parental  instinct,  birds  set  out  on  their  migra- 
tory journeys  across  entire  continents,  over  pathless 
deserts  and  seas.  Salmon  exchange  salt  water  for  fresh, 
following  far  inland  the  courses  of  the  rivers,  at  times 
shooting  up  steep  water-falls  of  great  height  and  swift- 
ness ;  the  herring  travel  to  the  south,  while  the  mack- 
erel seek  the  colder  currents  of  northern  climes.  Is  it 
possible  that  these  animals,  untaught  and  inexperienced, 
are  so  deeply  versed  in  biological  lore  that  they  are  en- 
abled by  their  own  judgment  to  determine  unerringly 
the  precise  conditions  fitted  for  the  development  of  the 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        JQ9 

embryo  in  the  egg  ?  And  is  it  also  possible  for  them 
to  know  in  what  localities  they  will  find  those  con- 
ditions fulfilled,  or  for  them  to  thread  their  way  thither 
for  the  first  time,  without  a  guide,  over  prairies  and 
sand-plains  and  tumbling  ocean  billows?  Dr.  Jenner* 
ascertained  by  clipping  two  claws  from  the  foot  of  each 
of  twelve  swifts,  that  after  nine  months'  absence  in 
some  distant  country,  they  returned  regularly  for  years, 
with  the  return  of  the  breeding-season,  to  their  old 
nesting-place. 

It  might  be  urgedf  that  among  swallows  and  mar- 
tins, who  congregate  and  move  off  in  great  bodies,  the 
older  ones  have  been  over  the  route  and  now  act  as 
guides;  but  this  cannot  be  said  of  nightingales,  red- 
starts, or  especially  of  cuckoos,  who  are  deserted  by 
their  parents  before  they  are  born  and  reared  in  the 
nests  of  strangers.  It  is  well  known  that  those  birds 
which  raise  several  broods  desert  each  in  its  turn,  and 
become  estranged  as  soon  as  they  are  old  enough  to  re- 
quire assistance  no  longer.  This  seeming  knowledge  of 
courses  animals  have  shown  under  other  circumstances. 
BearsJ  have,  in  times  of  great  scarcity,  been  known  to 
travel  from  their  native  woods  through  cultivated  parts 
of  the  country  for  hundreds  of  miles,  on  a  direct  course, 
to  a  new  wilderness  abounding  with  supplies.  Lord 
Brougham,  in  his  "  Conversations  on  Instinct,"  gives 
numerous  instances  of  dogs,  sheep,  and  other  quadru- 
peds, being  taken  from  thirty  to  two  hundred  miles 


*  Philosophical  Trans,  of  Koyal  Society,  London,  1824,  p.  16. 

flbid.,  p.  29. 

{  Rev.  M.  Smith's  "Elements  of  Mental  Science." 


HO  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

away  from  home,  either  in  hampers  behind  coaches,  or 
on  shipboard,  and,  though  having  no  scent  to  guide 
them,  finding  their  way  back,  seemingly  without  trouble 
or  delay,  through  an  unknown  country. 

There  is  a  spider*  which  chooses  a  river-bottom  for 
its  home  and  hunting-ground,  and  to  effect  its  purpose 
builds  for  itself  a  diving-bell  that  embodies  in  its  con- 
struction and  management  many  of  the  principles  of 
physics.  It  is  made  air-tight,  turned  mouth  downward 
and  tied  on  every  side  with  strong  cords  to  the  bed  of 
the  stream.  After  its  bell  is  thus  finished  and  fastened, 
the  spider  comes  to  the  surface,  covers  its  abdomen  with 
fine  web,  swims  on  its  back  till  the  interstices  of  this 
covering  are  filled  with  air;  then,  diving  under  the 
mouth  of  the  bell,  presses  out  with  its  legs  the  air  thus 
entangled,  displacing  thereby  an  equal  quantity  of  water. 
Again  and  again  this  process  is  repeated  till  the  bell  be- 
comes habitable.  What,  can  we  imagine,  first  deter- 
mined the  spider,  supposing  it  to  be  following  out  its 
own  thinking,  thus  to  locate  its  nest  under  water?  for  it 
has  neither  spiracles  nor  gills,  nor  any  organs  fitting  it 
for  such  a  habitat;  or  how  did  it  study  out  so  ingenious 
a  method  for  making  such  an  undertaking  possible  ? 
The  inventor  of  this  bell  must  have  known  that  air  is 
lighter  than  water ;  that  it  can  be  mechanically  retained 
in  fine  fabrics,  and  that  when  introduced  into  an  inverted 
receiver  it  will  displace  the  water  instead  of  becoming 
absorbed  by  it.  Has  this  spider  been  so  close  a  student 
of  nature  as  to  have  discovered  these  laws  of  physics, 


*  Bridgewater  Treatise,  vol.  xi.  pp.  296-97;  also,  "The Trans- 
formation of  Insects,"  by  P.  M.  Duncan,  F.E.S. 


MENTAL   LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN. 

and  is  it  so  gifted  an  inventor  as  thus  ingeniously  to 
have  applied  its  knowledge,  without  instruction  or  ex- 
perience or  working  model  ?  This  daintiest  of  palaces, 
that  shines  through  the  water  like  a  globe  of  polished 
silver,  must  have  been  thought  out  in  all  its  detail  be- 
fore the  spider  commenced  spinning  ite  first  thread,  for 
the  weaver  shows  no  hesitancy  and  makes  no  mistake. 
It  must  also  have  been  the  product  of  a  single  mind, 
for  its  parts  are  so  intimately  correlated  that  the  absence 
of  a  single  one  does  not  simply  obscure  the  conception, 
it  totally  destroys  it.  There  must  be  either  perfection 
or  flat  failure.  This  alternative  was  presented  to  the 
very  first  spider  of  the  species. 

There  is  another  spider*  classed  among  the  "  Va- 
grants/7 that  spreads  no  snare,  but,  when  a  fly  settles  near 
it,  steals  along  with  extreme  caution  until,  coining  within 
striking  distance,  it  fastens  a  thread  of  web  to  the  spot, 
and  with  incredible  swiftness  and  accuracy  darts  upon 
its  prey,  the  thread  serving  as  a  strong  cable  to  save  it 
from  a  fall  and  enable  it  to  regain  its  position.  The 
contrivance  and  forethought  here  exhibited  cannot  be 
products  of  the  spider's  mind  under  the  spur  of  expe- 
rience, for  its  spinnerets  are  certainly  not  of  its  inven- 
tion, and  as  the  thread  spun  by  them  serves  no  other 
end,  and  served  that  as  perfectly  on  the  first  leap  as  on 
any  other,  the  spider  must  actually  have  been  caught 
on  a  thread  itself  had  spun  before  it  knew  it  could 
spin  it. 

There  is  still  another  spider,  f  called  the  Pioneer, 

*  Bridgcwatcr  Treatise,  vol.  xi.  p.  298. 
f  Ibid.,  pp.  287-89. 


112  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

which  for  the  perfection  and  ingenuity  of  its  work  may 
well  excite  our  wonder.  It  bores  in  the  ground  a  hole 
three  inches  deep  and  ten  lines  wide,  and  carefully 
covers  it  with  two  coats  of  mortar,  the  first  rough,  the 
second  smooth  and  regular.  Inside  these  it  spreads  a 
strong  coarse  web,  and  then  over  all  hangs  a  most  deli- 
cate silk  tapestry.  The  door  with  which  it  afterward 
closes  the  entrance  more  especially  commands  our  ad- 
miration for  felicity  of  design  and  elaborate  finish.  It 
is  a  pronounced  masterpiece.  It  is  built  of  thirty  alter- 
nate layers  of  earth  and  web,  has  bevelled  edges,  is 
hung  on  a  spring  hinge  that  makes  it  self-shutting,  and 
is  also,  like  the  tube,  lined  with  fine  silk.  It  fits  the 
aperture  so  perfectly,  and  on  the  outside  so  closely  re- 
sembles the  ground,  it  seems  to  vanish  the  moment  it 
shuts.  The  mode  of  its  construction  gives  it  great 
strength,  and  the  bevelling  of  its  edges  prevents  it  from 
being  forced  into  the  chamber  beneath.  It  can  never 
stand  ajar,  but  shuts  tightly  the  instant  the  spider  passes. 
The  apartment  is  perfectly  water-tight  and  concealed 
from  foes.  What  more  palatial  residence  or  secure  re- 
treat has  been  provided  for  any  of  God's  creatures  ? 

Wood-grouse  are  able  to  fly  the  instant  they  emerge 
from  the  egg ;  and  there  is  a  family  of  birds  in  Aus- 
tralia whose  young,  hatched  from  eggs  buried  in  earthen 
mounds,  no  sooner  see  the  light  than  they  feed  them- 
selves, run  and  fly,  and  roost  on  trees. 

How  shall  we  explain  this  seemingly  intuitive  knowl- 
edge, evinced  by  both  bird  and  beast,  of  the  laws  of 
perspective;  their  instant  and  perfect  command  over 
their  bodies ;  their  intelligent  care  of  them,  and  their 
old  familiar  ways,  as  if  they  had  waked  from  brief 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        H3 

sleep,  instead  of  having  stepped  for  the  first  time  across 
the  threshold  of  life? 

The  bee,  for  the  storing  of  its  rich  honey-harvests, 
builds  with  its  mandibles,  out  of  laminae  of  wax  it  re- 
moves from  under  its  abdomen,  a  double  row  of  hex- 
agonal cells.  Its  comb,  however  unequal  the  surfaces 
to  which  it  is  attached,  bears  the  severest  test  of  the 
microscope  for  completeness  and  precision,  though  the 
bee  performs  its  tasks  without  instruction  or  experience 
or  protracted  study,  and  works  in  the  dark  guided  sim- 
ply by  its  antenna,  its  eyes  being  stone-blind  inside  the 
hive,  their  lenses  having  no  adjustable  focus  and  being 
constructed  for  long  range.  Its  comb  bears  also  the 
test  of  science.  The  most  eminent  mathematicians 
pronounce  the  angles  to  which  the  planes  of  the  sides 
and  ends  of  its  cells  are  inclined  to  be  precisely  those 
which  will  secure  the  greatest  strength  with  the  least 
expenditure  of  material  according  to  the  principles  of 
maxima  and  minima  as  laid  down  in  the  Differential 
Calculus.  But  think  you  the  bee's  apparent  knowledge 
of  mathematics  any  more  real  than  that  of  the  buds 
which  break  out  about  the  bole  of  a  tree  in  accordance 
with  the  rule  of  arithmetical  progression?  Should  we 
be  disposed  to  plead  that  the  skill  and  knowledge  here 
displayed  are  but  transmitted  acquisitions  of  some  former 
age,  the  difficulty  would  still  confront  us  of  explaining 
how  these  acquisitions  could  at  the  first  have  been  made. 
But  this  plea  is  in  this  instance  denied  us,  as  neither  the 
father  nor  mother  of  the  worker-bee  ever  moulded  a 
pellet  of  wax,  or,  for  purposes  of  storage,  ever  thrust 
their  heads  inside  a  flower-cup.  They  are  born  aristo- 
crats. They  have  neither  skill  in  architecture,  knowl- 

6* 


114  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

edge  of  mathematics,  nor  habits  of  thrift ;  indeed,  they 
have  neither  long  and  flexible  tongues,  nor  honey  stom- 
achs, nor  pollen-baskets,  nor  wax-pouches,  to  transmit 
to  this  their  strange  sexless  child. 

When  their  queen  dies,  the  bees  select  the  larva  of  a 
worker  less  than  three  days  old,  greatly  enlarge  the  walls 
of  its  cell  by  combining  it  with  others  adjoining,  change 
its  position  from  a  horizontal  to  a  vertical  one,  and  pro- 
vide for  it  a  superior  kind  of  food  called  royal  jelly. 
How  do  these  nurses  know  that  such  treatment  will 
secure  the  desired  transformation  ?  They  here  prove 
equal  to  an  emergency  which  they  could  not  have  fore- 
seen, and  act  as  if  they  were  acquainted  with  laws  of 
biology  which  scientists  have  thus  far  searched  for  in 
vain.  The  very  first  brood-comb  that  was  ever  built 
by  the  first  swarm  of  bees  must  have  been  made  up  of 
neuter,  drone,  and  queen  cells,  and  the  latter  must  have 
been  distinguished  from  the  others  by  these  same  marked 
differences  in  size,  position,  and  contents. 

The  ducts  that  lead  from  the  different  ovaries  of  the 
queen  finally  unite  in  a  common  oviduct,  on  the  side  of 
which  is  a  little  pea-shaped  sack  called  the  spermatheca. 
About  it  voluntary  muscles  are  so  placed  that  the  queen 
can  or  not,  as  she  chooses,  fertilize  her  eggs  as  they  pass 
down  the  tube  and  thus  determine  the  sex  and  destiny 
of  future  images.  She  not  only  seems  conscious  of  this 
power,  but  to  use  it  intelligently,  taking  care  to  deposit 
the  unfertilized  eggs  only  in  drone  cells.  But  is  she, 
in  fact,  conscious  of  the  consequences  of  her  acts  ?  Is 
this  most  profound  knowledge  her  own  ?  What  deter- 
mined the  first  bee-builders  of  drone  cells  to  make  them 
larger  and  longer  than  those  of  neuters?  or  what  deter- 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        H5 

mined  the  first  bee-foragers  to  bring  home  in  their 
baskets  pollen  instead  of  nectar  to  feed  the  future 
larvae?  How  did  they  know  that  this  was  fit  food  for 
any  one?  If  the  queen  returns  successful  from  her 
marriage-flight,  the  workers  wage  a  merciless  war 
against  the  drones,  who,  not  having  been  provided  with 
any  weapons  of  defence  designedly,  fall  an  easy  prey 
to  the  poisoned  darts  of  their  destroyers.  How  do  the 
workers  know  that  the  drones  will  henceforth  be  only 
a  burden  to  the  colony  ?  Are  they  self-appointed  ex- 
ecutive officials  of  the  Divine  Code?  Or  is  their  com- 
mission to  be  found  in  some  implanted  impulse  which 
commands  and  secures  from  them  unquestioning  obe- 
dience ? 

Do  those  lizards  which  live  along  the  banks  of  the 
La  Plata  know  that  when,  at  the  approach  of  danger, 
they  suddenly  shut  their  eyes  and  flatten  themselves 
they  are  actually  hidden  because  of  the  close  resem- 
blance of  their  mottled  tints  to  the  sand-plains  where 
they  lie?  Or  do  the  pipe-fish  understand  that  they, 
with  their  reddish  streaming  filaments,  are  hardly  dis- 
tinguishable from  the  sea-weed  to  which  they  cling 
with  their  prehensile  tails  ?  Does  the  ray  or  torpedo 
realize  at  the  first  that  it  has  an  electric  battery  by 
whose  discharge  it  can  send  a  shock  of  paralysis 
along  the  nerve-fibres  of  its  foes  ?  Is  the  cuttle-fish, 
which  in  an  instant  beclouds  the  water  with  ink,  any 
less  surprised  than  its  bewildered  pursuer?  Do  any 
of  the  animals  before  they  have  actually  used  their 
weapons,  either  of  defence  or  attack,  and  used  them,  too, 
dexterously,  know  that  they  possess  them  ?  or  have 
they  reflected  how  they  can  be  used  with  most  telling 


116  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

effect  ?  On  the  first  trial  in  each  case  there  must  have 
been,  it  would  seem,  an  instantaneous  and  unthinking 
obedience  to  some  impulse  which  to  them  is  wholly 
unintelligible. 

Upon  the  testimony  of  such  facts  as  these,  of  which 
the  earth  is  full,  we  are  warranted  in  believing  that  in 
works  of  pure  instinct  animals  blindly  follow  impulses 
that,  like  other  forces  in  nature,  operate  methodically 
and  under  fixed  conditions;  that  they  have  no  more 
idea  of  what  will  be  the  result  than  they  have  of  what 
multiform  changes  their  food  is  to  undergo,  or  in  what 
way  or  for  what  purpose  those  changes  are  to  be  effected. 

In  most  of  the  instances  cited  I  have  taken  pains  to 
point  out  the  utter  impossibility  of  alleging  that  these 
were  but  phenomena  of  "  lapsed  intelligence/7  a  relic  of 
some  acquired  experience.  This  same  impossibility  at- 
taches equally  to  all.  In  this  department  of  the  life  of 
animals  we  witness  no  signs  of  growth  in  either  skill  or 
knowledge.  Perfection  in  both  is  reached  at  a  single 
bound  prior  to  experience,  and  independent  of  the  aids 
of  instruction.  There  would  be  no  change  in  the  prob- 
lem were  we  to  transfer  the  inquiry  to  the  habits  and 
achievements  of  the  first  individual  in  each  species. 
We  are  shut  up  to  the  belief  that  the  thinking  here 
embodied  is  traceable  solely  to  the  Infinite  Mind. 

So  deeply  impressed  have  some  observers  been  by  the 
profound  wisdom  and  marvellous  skill  displayed  in 
works  of  instinct,  that  they  have  regarded  the  lower 
animals  simply  as  automatons,  moved  by  direct  acts 
of  Divine  will ;  as  exquisitely-constructed  musical 
instruments,  whose  keys  God's  own  fingers  touch. 
But  how  can  those  who  entertain  this  view  explain 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW   THE  HUMAN.        H7 

certain  errors,  and  they  are  by  no  means  few,  into  which 
instinct  is  betrayed?  The  flesh-fly  lays  her  eggs  on 
the  blossom  of  the  carrion-plant,  mistaking  it  for  veri- 
table flesh,  and  thereby  failing  to  secure  the  two  great 
purposes  in  nature, — the  preservation  of  the  individual 
and  the  continuance  of  the  species.  A  hen  will  sit  on 
chalk  or  porcelain  eggs,  will  have  motherly  attachment 
for  ducklings  hatched  by  her,  will  worry  when  they  go 
into  the  water  lest  they  drown.  She  has  even  accepted 
young  ferrets  for  a  brood,  and  fallen  into  equally  ludi- 
crous errors.  A  dog  will  bury  a  bone  already  gnawed, 
and  food  to  which  he  has  no  occasion  to  return.  Ani- 
mals frequently  use  their  weapons  of  defence  on  false 
alarms,  and  they  use  them  with  all  that  wonderful 
dexterity  and  inexplicable  wisdom  that  suggest  Divine 
interference. 

Can  the  phenomena  of  instinct  be  accounted  for  by 
the  peculiarities  of  bodily  structure?  Unquestionably 
there  exists  between  the  two  a  deep  harmony,  a  close 
correlation,  for  changes  in  the  instincts  of  insects  are 
found  to  keep  pace  with  changes  in  their  organization. 
The  ephemeron  experiences  no  less  than  seventeen  tol- 
erably well-pronounced  grades  of  development  before 
the  larva  attains  maturity,  yet  it  steps  into  its  new  cir- 
cumstances without  hesitation  or  embarrassment.  The 
old  organs  and  the  old  habits  make  their  exit  together 
to  make  way  for  the  new.  After  it  has  crawled  out  of 
the  water,  where  its  home  has  been  for  two  years,  the 
only  two  thus  far  of  its  existence,  and  its  skin  cracks 
open  down  its  'back,  it  lifts  itself  on  its  wings  as  fa- 
miliarly as  if  it  had  been  an  insect  always  and  was 
escaping  now  only  from  some  temporary  confinement. 


118  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

And  the  same  is  true  of  all  those  animals  which  pass 
through  one  or  more  moults  before  becoming  perfected. 
But  controverting  this  view  there  is  the  fact  that  this 
correlation  extends  also  to  environment,  and  there  is  the 
further  fact  that  there  are  species  which,  though  having 
like  organizations  and  surroundings,  possess  instincts 
noticeably  different.  The  younger  Huber*  tells  us 
that  the  brown,  ash-colored,  fallow,  mining,  sanguine, 
fuliginous,  and  yellow  ants  have  the  same  exterior  or- 
gans, use  similar  means  for  building  their  dwellings, 
and  resemble  each  other  in  figure,  yet  in  their  instincts 
are  wide  apart,  evidencing  that  physical  structure 
does  not  determine  the  peculiarities  of  instinct.  Yet 
this  difference  does  not  preclude  perfect  correlation  be- 
tween the  organs  and  the  instincts  of  these  species. 
The  same  may  be  predicated  of  spiders.  They  all 
possess  the  same  web-spinning  apparatus,  the  same 
organs  generally.  Yet  one  will  spin  a  snare,  another 
an  anchor-cable,  another  a  diving-bell,  another  a  bal- 
loon, and  still  another  a  tapestry-hung  palace.  Even 
the  snares  are  not  all  constructed  on  the  same  principle, 
for  there  is  one  variety  of  geometrical  spider,  which, 
differing  from  its  companions,  spins  a  triangular  web, 
so  arranged  that  it  can,  by  seizing  a  certain  single 
thread,  draw  the  entire  structure  to  any  desired  ten- 
sion. This  it  does,  and  then,  after  patiently  waiting  in 
its  concealed  watch-house  till  a  fly  carelessly  alights, 
lets  go  its  hold,  and  thus  springs  the  meshes  about  its 
victim.  I  remember  having  my  attention  arrested  one 
morning  by  a  most  gorgeous  spider  of  gigantic  size,  its 

*  On  Ants,  p.  49. 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        H9 

body  having  a  bright  metallic  lustre.  Its  web,  how- 
ever, differed  in  no  respect,  except  in  size,  from  that 
spun  by  the  little,  gray,  extremely  ordinary-looking 
individual  which,  the  same  morning,  had  chosen  the 
corner  of  my  study  for  its  hunting-ground. 

These  and  kindred  facts  convince  me  that  there  is  no 
warrant  in  nature  for  concluding  that  in  each  act  of 
instinct  God  exercises  direct  volition,  or  that  instinct 
has  its  origin  in  some  peculiarity  of  bodily  structure. 
This  alone  seems  revealed,  that  between  the  organs, 
the  environment,  and  the  implanted  impulse  there  has 
been  established  a  profound  correlation. 

It  is  impossible  to  account  for  all  the  acts  of  animals 
by  this  organic  impulse  of  instinct.  It  has  its  limita^ 
tions,  like  every  other  force.  There  are  daily  recurring 
emergencies  which  it  seems  inadequate  to  meet,  and  so 
it  has  been  created  with  possibilities  of  modification ; 
and  there  also  have  been  given  it  as  auxiliaries,  first,  the 
senses,  which  sometimes  are  marvellously  developed ; 
and  second,  the  rudiments  of  all  intellectual  faculties,  not 
excepting,  as  I  shall  endeavor  to  show,  reason  itself. 

The  fact  that  the  action  of  instinct  can  in  any  way  be 
modified  may,  at  first,  appear  as  against  the  theory  that 
instinct  is  an  organic  impulse;  but  experiment  has  proved 
that  even  those  impulses  clearly  organic,  those  that  affect 
the  appearance  and  determine  the  habits  of  animals  and 
plants,  can  be  more  or  less  modified  by  the  hand  of 
man,  or  even  by  a  change  in  the  surroundings  effected 
by  natural  causes.  Ivy  planted  against  a  wall  or  tree 
supports  itself  by  radicles,  yet*  when  reared  as  a  stand- 

*  Bridgewater  Treatise,  vol.  xi.  p.  248. 


120  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

ard  it  has  been  observed  to  send  forth  none.  The 
florist,  the  fruit-grower,  and  the  stock-raiser  have 
amassed  fortunes  on  these  artificially  produced  modifi- 
cations ;  and  Darwin,  Huxley,  Wallace,  and  other  ex- 
perimenters and  investigators  have  confidently  founded 
a  theory  of  creation  upon  the  modifications  which  they 
have  discovered  or  effected  in  the  modes  of  working  of 
those  unquestionably  organic  forces  that  build  up  plant 
and  animal  organisms.  Though  seriously  questioning 
the  soundness  of  their  conclusions,  we  can  but  grant 
their  statements  of  fact. 

If  such  modifications  are  possible  among  confessed 
organic  forces,  it  should  not  surprise  us  that  we  meet 
them  in  instinct.  Some  birds,*  to  avoid  snakes,  wholly 
change  their  mode  of  building,  hanging  their  nests  to 
the  ends  of  branches  and  making  the  exit  from  beneath. 
Ants  in  Siam  do  not  construct  their  nests  on  the  ground, 
but  in  trees,  that  country  being  much  subject  to  inunda- 
tions. Dogs  which  the  Spaniards  left  in  the  island  of 
Juan  Fernandez  were  found  to  have  lost  the  habit  of 
barking  when  Juan  and  D'Ulloa  visited  that  famous 
spot  in  their  journeyings  in  South  America.  Dogs  in 
Guinea  only  howl,  and  those  taken  there  from  Europe 
become  like  them  after  three  or  four  generations.  Hens 
ushered  into  life  in  the  chicken-hatching  ovens  of  Paris 
are  said  to  lose  the  instinct  of  incubation. 

Instincts  which  have  become  either  injurious  or  use- 
less through  changed  circumstances  have  not  only  been 
modified  or  lost,  but  have  been  supplemented  by  habits 
which  after  a  lapse  of  time  have  borne  to  them  a  re- 

*  Brougham's  Works,  vol.  vi.  p.  263. 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW   THE  HUMAN.        121 

semblance  so  close  that  they  have  been  erroneously 
placed  in  the  same  category.  The  mistake  has  hap- 
pened in  this  way.  Certain  acts,  at  first  done  con- 
sciously and  with  definite  design,  after  a  while  become 
unconscious  and  automatic,  changing  in  some  instances 
the  bodily  structure.  They  have  even  been  transmitted 
to  offspring.  But  it  is  utterly  impossible  for  instincts 
proper  to  have  any  such  origin,  as  I  have  already  shown. 
Failing  to  note  this  vital  distinction,  Darwin  has  at- 
tempted to  draw  the  conclusion,  from  some  instances  of 
habits  having  thus  been  changed  into  pseudo-instincts 
and  carried  down  from  one  generation  to  another,  that 
such  must  be  the  nature  and  origin  of  all  impulses  that 
are  instinctive.  The  skill  acquired  by  dogs  in  hunting 
is  known  to  be  inherited  by  their  pups,  so  that  South 
American  dogs  will,  the  first  time  they  are  taken  to  the 
chase,  hunt  in  line,  while  those  from  other  lands  will 
rush  on  singly  and  be  destroyed.  Here  are  knowledge 
and  skill,  first  acquired  through  experience,  appearing 
in  subsequent  generations  as  apparently  instinctive  per- 
ceptions and  impulses.  It  will  be  found  that  many  of 
the  acts  of  animals  which  are  supposed  to  be  prompted 
by  instinct  are  really  and  only  confirmed  habits. 

Instinct  is  also,  as  we  have  remarked,  associated  with 
the  bodily  senses  developed  often  to  marvellous  acute- 
ness,  and  associated  so  intimately  with  them  that  its 
work  and  theirs  have  frequently  been  confounded.  It 
is  by  the  odor  of  the  carrion-plant  that  the  flesh-fly  is 
so  fatally  misled  to  deposit  its  eggs  in  its  tissues.  The 
bee  is  attracted  by  the  scent  of  the  nectar-cups,  and  it 
keeps  sweet  and  healthful  the  air  in  its  hive  by  enclos- 
ing in  propolis  any  offensive  foreign  substance  found 


122  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    qUESTIONS. 

within  and  too  cumbersome  to  handle.  A  dog's  power 
of  smell  so  immeasurably  transcends  our  own  that  we 
would  not  believe  such  subtilty  of  sense  possible  were 
it  not  demonstrated  hourly  in  our  presence. 

In  the  wide  contrast  between  the  conduct  of  bees  and 
that  of  winged  ants  on  leaving  their  homes,  the  im- 
portant part  played  by  the  sense  of  sight  may  be  noted. 
All  bees,  even  queens  entering  upon  their  marriage- 
flight,  carefully  reconnoitre,  while,  without  an  instant's 
hesitation  or  a  single  glance  backward,  ants  fly  away  so 
far  that  to  retrace  their  course  becomes  a  practical  im- 
possibility. The  ants  have  no  thought  of  return,  and 
hence  make  no  provision  for  it.  They  are  simply  in 
search  of  suitable  sites  for  the  new  colonies  nature  has 
appointed  them  to  establish. 

The  powers  of  observation  of  carrier-pigeons  and  the 
tenacity  of  their  memories,  together  with  their  undying 
local  attachments,  at  least  partially  account  for  their 
wonderful  achievements.  Those  who  have  them  in 
training  first  throw  them  a  few  yards  from  their  dove- 
cots, and  then  a  little  farther,  each  time  lengthening 
the  distance  and  changing  the  direction  until  the  feat- 
ures of  the  landscape  become  perfectly  familiar  and  in- 
delibly impressed.  Still,  this  is  only  a  partial  explana- 
tion, for  they  will  readily  find  their  way  back  not  only 
after  the  lapse  of  years,  but  even  across  trackless  seas, 
though  their  schooling  made  them  acquainted  only  with 
the  immediate  neighborhood  of  their  old  home.  So, 
too,  the  flights  of  bees  can  thus  be  but  partially  ex- 
plained. The  flowers  they  are  to  enter  and  empty  may 
be  nodding  in  a  meadow  a  mile  away.  Their  eyes,  it 
is  true,  are  suited  for  long  range,  and  are,  no  doubt, 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        123 

brought  into  full  requisition,  but  when  after  visiting 
flower  after  flower,  taking  in  cargo  of  pollen  or  nectar, 
they  rise  in  circles  through  the  air,  they  must  have 
some  other  and  surer  guide  than  any  known  organ  of 
the  body,  to  enable  them  to  dart,  as  they  do,  direct  as  a 
ray  of  light  over  hill-top  and  river-course  and  meadow- 
land  to  their  home  again,  for  it  now  is  to  all  seeming 
beyond  the  range  of  both  their  sight  and  scent.  When, 
however,  a  bee  chances  to  miss  its  aim  and  reaches  the 
wrong  hive,  it  corrects  its  error  only  by  circling  again 
in  the  air,  showing  that  acute  observation  and  a  tena- 
cious memory  are  largely  concerned  in  the  act. 

No  doubt  it  is,  sometimes,  by  aid  of  the  senses  that 
sheep  and  dogs,  when  taken  long  distances  from  home, 
find  their  way  back.  They  prowl  over  wider  areas 
than  we  are  apt  to  suppose,  and  only  by  learning  their 
full  history  can  we  reach  any  safe  conclusion.  The 
sight  of  the  eagle  and  the  scent  of  the  carrion-bird  have 
become  proverbial.  All  the  architecture  of  ant  and 
bee  inside  hive  and  hill  is  wrought  in  carefully  dark- 
ened chambers,  through  the  delicate  touch  of  antennae. 
Indeed,  in  all  their  systematic  co-operative  work,  in 
their  accurate  measurement  of  surfaces  and  angles,  in 
their  mastery  of  the  complicated  affairs  of  their  throng- 
ing colonies,  even  in  their  interchange  of  thought,  as 
we  shall  find,  they  rely  largely  upon  the  aid  of  these 
restless,  sensitive,  hair-like  processes  with  which  they 
have  been  provided. 

But  as  the  fact  that  all  animals  are  endowed  with 
one  or  more  of  the  five  senses,  as  guides  and  allies,  is 
universally  conceded,  no  further  argument  or  even 
statement  is  required.  The  real  questions  at  issue  are 


124  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

these :  are  the  senses  the  elements  that  go  to  make  up 
the  instinct,  or  is  this  a  unique  faculty,  a  distinct  or- 
ganic impulse,  and  are  they  but  its  servitors  ?  and,  if  the 
latter  be  true,  exactly  where  do  the  actions  of  each  com- 
mence and  terminate  ?  All  that  is  needed  here  is  per- 
haps a  word  of  caution  against  attributing  to  instinct 
what  is  really  referable  to  the  sometimes  preternaturally 
developed  organs  of  sense. 

In  the  life  below  our  own  we  find  not  only  instinct 
and  the  bodily  senses,  but  the  rudiments,  at  least,  of  all 
the  mental  faculties  with  which  we  ourselves  have  been 
endowed. 

Late  one  fall  in  a  hive  of  the  elder  Huber  one  of  the 
centre  combs,  proving  too  weak  for  its  load,  broke,  and 
in  its  fall  lodged  against  one  of  its  neighbors.  But  the 
bees,  in  which  we  should  least  expect  conscious  intelli- 
gence, so  thoroughly  instinctive  are  nearly  all  their  acts, 
promptly  propped  the  suspended  fragment  with  pillars 
of  wax,  which  they  constructed  out  of  unfilled  comb, 
and  then  fastened  it  securely  above  and  at  the  sides. 
This  done,  they  tore  away  the  under  supports,  and  thus 
left  the  avenues  of  the  hive  again  free.  These  insects 
must  have  noticed  that  the  fragment  was  insecurely 
lodged,  and,  fearing  lest  it  might  be  jarred  or  weighed 
down  by  themselves  before  they  could  tie  it,  resorted  to 
this  precautionary  measure.  Here  must  have  been  de- 
liberative thought,  an  exercise  of  some  sort  of  reflective 
faculty.  Plow  else  can  the  incident  be  explained? 

This  same  acute  observer  tells  us  that  he  has  known 
bees  both  to  discover  a  mistake  and  to  remedy  it.  He 
once  placed  blocks  of  wood  in  a  glass  hive,  in  such 
positions  that,  if  the  combs  were  carried  down  perpen- 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        125 

dicularly  as  commenced,  the  passages  would  be  left  too 
narrow.  The  bees  not  only  became  aware  of  this,  but 
actually  curved  their  combs  and  in  consequence  changed 
the  form  of  the  cells.  Here  the  God-given,  ideal  model 
itself,  which  we  suppose  the  insect  to  work  out  under 
the  spur  of  blind  impulse,  the  insects  themselves  change 
by  some  conscious  act  of  superior  intelligence.  Huber 
glazed  roof  and  floor,  and  the  bees  began  to  build  hori- 
zontally, and  when  he  again  interposed  glass  they  curved 
the  combs  to  reach  the  wooden  supports  at  precisely  the 
right  distance  from  the  obstructions;  thus  not  only 
varying  their  usual  rules  of  architecture,  but  varying 
them  by  concerted  action,  different  workers  being  busy 
on  different  parts  requiring  different  changes  in  order 
that  the  whole  might  be  developed  symmetrically. 

The  younger  Huber*  states  that  he  one  day  saw  an 
ash-colored  ant  constructing  one  side  of  an  arched  build- 
ing. It  was  too  low  to  meet  the  opposite  partition.  An- 
other worker,  chancing  near,  discovered  the  mistake,  tore 
down  the  arch,  raised  the  wall  the  requisite  height,  and 
then  built  a  new  arch  with  the  fragments  of  the  old. 
This  author,  in  the  same  connection,  remarks  that  the 
ash-colored  ants  do  not  build  methodically,  but  take 
advantage  of  whatever  they  may  happen  to  find  on  the 
selected  site;  varying  the  size,  distribution,  number, 
and  shape  of  the  rooms  according  to  circumstances. 
Whichever  one  first  conceives  a  feasible  plan  gives  a 
rough  sketch,  and  its  companions  help  it  to  complete 
it.  Their  abodes  are  water-tight,  several  stories  high, 
and  have  many  apartments  and  connecting  galleries. 

*  On  Ants,  p.  41. 


126  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

Huber  also  informs  us*  that  a  female  ant,  if  she  is 
needed  at  home,  is  seized  by  the  workers  before  she  can 
follow  out  her  instinctive  impulse  to  fly  away  and  found 
a  new  colony,  is  stripped  of  her  wings,  made  prisoner, 
and  placed  under  close  surveillance  until  her  desire  to 
wander  ceases.  The  ants,  in  this  instance,  unquestion- 
ably shape  their  actions  to  meet  a  new  and  unforeseen 
emergency.  They  deliberately  and  by  concerted  action 
plan  to  thwart  the  female  in  her  endeavors  to  follow  her 
instinctive  promptings.  They  not  only  break  off  her 
wings  and  place  her  under  close  guard,  but  they  seem 
to  go  so  far  as  to  seek  to  divert  her  attention  by  a 
thoughtful  hospitality  and  by  a  formal  presentation  to 
her  of  her  spacious  palace-home. 

Captain  King,f  in  Cook's  last  voyage,  gives  a  singu- 
lar instance  of  sagacity  in  the  use  by  bears  of  means, 
and  almost  of  weapons.  The  wild  deer  are  far  too 
swift  for  these  lumbering  sportsmen.  The  deer  herd 
in  low  grounds.  Bears  track  them  by  scent.  When 
near,  they  climb  some  adjoining  eminence  and  from 
thence  roll  down  pieces  of  rock  ;  nor  do  they  quit  their 
ambush  and  pursue  until  they  find  that  some  have  been 
maimed. 

Rev.  M.  Smith,  in  his  "  Elements  of  Mental  Science," 
narrates  that  a  fox  was  once  seen  to  run  down  into  the 
water  with  a  lock  of  wool  in  his  mouth,  and  then  to 
sink,  inch  by  inch,  until  only  the  wool  could  be  seen, 
and  this,  on  being  picked  up  afterward,  was  found  full 
of  fleas.  To  have  conceived  and  so  successfully  to  have 
executed  this  device  for  ridding  the  body  of  these  pests 

*  On  Ants,  p.  116.  f  Brougham,  vol.  vi.  p.  256 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        127 

demanded  a  train  of  connected  reflections  on  the  part 
of  a  self-conscious  mind.  The  fox,  in  some  way,  must 
have  made  the  discovery  that  fleas  cannot  live  under 
water,  and  then  he  must  have  reflected  that  as  he  slowly 
sank  they  would  take  their  departure,  provided  he  fur- 
nished them  some  way  of  escape.  He  must  have  gone 
in  search  of  the  wool  or  other  substance,  and  afterward 
stepped  down  into  the  stream,  revolving  this  plan  which 
with  such  marked  deliberation  and  conscious  forethought 
he  had  so  happily  originated. 

By  this  same  author  we  find  given  another  instance 
of  fox-sagacity.  The  wily  thief  was  observed  in  a 
field  playing  around  a  group  of  pigs  as  though  the 
larger  swine  were  objects  of  terror.  The  fox  suddenly 
caught  up  a  piece  of  wood,  about  the  size  of  a  pig,  and, 
running  toward  the  fence,  jumped  through  an  opening. 
Then  he  dropped  the  wood  and  returned,  seized  a  pig, 
and  bounded  through  the  self-same  place.  Did  he 
compare  the  size  of  the  block  with  that  of  a  pig, 
and  then  make  a  trial  trip,  so  that  he  might  not  fail  of 
escape?  or  did  he  design  to  throw  the  mother  off  her 
guard?  In  either  case  he  deliberately,  consciously 
planned,  exhibiting  powers  of  comparison  and  judg- 
ment. 

Lord  Brougham,  in  his  "  Dialogues,"  calls  attention 
to  the  habits  of  an  American  bird,  called  the  "  nine- 
killer,"  which  catches  grasshoppers  and  strings  them 
upon  the  twigs  of  trees  as  bait  for  small  birds  with 
which  it  proposes  to  supply  its  larder.  This  bird  may, 
however,  be  as  unconscious  and  instinctive  in  laying  its 
snare  as  the  spider.  The  same  may  be  true  in  the  case 
of  ants  domesticating  and  milking  the  aphides,  or  of 


128  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

the  man-of-war-birds  in  their  life-long  robbery  of  the 
spoils  of  more  skilled  fishermen.  But  there  are  enough 
well-authenticated  instances  to  force  upon  us  the  con- 
viction that  animals  can  originate  and  carry  out  plans 
to  meet  unforeseen  emergencies,  that  are  so  complicated 
and  so  sagacious  that  we  must  accord  to  them  self-con- 
sciousness, powers  of  observation,  memory,  imagination, 
and  judgment.  The  Duke  of  Argyll,  in  his  "  Prime- 
val Man,"  claims  that  man  stands  radically  apart  from 
the  lower  creations  in  the  fact  that  he  alone  is  a  tool- 
maker.  Had  hands  been  given  to  the  animals,  and 
were  they  less  marvellously  endowed  with  implements 
of  industry  or  with  weapons  of  war,  necessity  might, 
for  aught  we  know,  have  become  with  them,  as  with 
us,  the  mother  of  inventions. 

President  Bascom,  in  his  "  Comparative  Psychology," 
argues  against  the  belief  of  the  lower  animals  possess- 
ing reason,  their  highest  faculty  being  a  memoriter  or 
associative  judgment.  This  is,  as  he  defines  it,*  but  a 
quasi-judgment,  the  union  of  two  impressions  in  con- 
sciousness, referable  to  the  simple  fact  that  they  have 
been  so  united  in  experience,  memory  being  the  basis. 
Doubtless  there  have  been  cited,  as  proofs  of  reason, 
many  instances  which  really  indicate  no  higher  faculty 
than  that  here  designated.  An  incident  cited  by  Dr. 
Wilson,  a  former  Bishop  of  Calcutta,  of  the  conduct 
of  an  elephant  under  most  trying  circumstances,  is, 
perhaps,  a  case  in  point.  The  elephant  had  become 
almost  blind.  A  surgeon  had  cauterized  his  eye, 
causing  him  to  utter  a  loud  cry  of  pain.  He  got  well. 

*  Comparative  Psychology,  p.  198. 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        129 

Some  time  afterward,  it  was  thought  best  to  touch  the 
other  eye  with  the  nitrate  of  silver.  For  a  while  his 
keeper  thought  it  would  be  unsafe  to  bring  the  surgeon 
into  his  presence,  knowing  the  elephant's  memory  and 
fearing  his  revenge.  But,  to  his  utter  surprise,  the 
elephant  lay  down  of  his  own  accord,  evidently  to 
submit  to  another  operation. 

But  the  conduct  of  animals  under  entirely  novel 
circumstances,  of  which  I  have  given  a  few  examples, 
the  philosophy  of  President  Bascom  necessarily  fails  to 
explain.  And,  further,  there  is  to  my  mind  abundant 
incontrovertible  evidence  that  there  exists  among  the 
lower  animals  a  rational  language,  and  to  this  I  now 
invite  special  attention. 

Max  Miiller,  in  his  "  Lectures  on  Darwin's  Philoso- 
phy of  Language/7  maintains  that  though  there  is  in 
every  human  language  a  layer  of  interjectional,  imita- 
tive, purely  emotional  words,  the  great  bulk  of  men's 
speech,  not  excepting  that  of  the  lowest  barbarians, 
can  be  traced  to  roots  which  are  signs  of  general  con- 
cepts; that  the  origin  of  these  abstract  terms  marks 
the  beginning  of  rational  intercourse,  and  that  the 
language  of  the  lower  animals  is  exclusively  emotional 
and  imitative, — absolutely  no  trace  of  a  power  of  ab- 
straction being  found  in  the  language  of  even  the  most 
advanced  of  catarrhine  apes.  Interjections  and  imita- 
tive words  are,  he  maintains,  the  very  opposite  of  roots; 
one  being  vague  and  varying  in  sound  and  special  in 
meaning,  the  other  definite  in  sound  but  general  in 
meaning;  and  hence  the  first  could  not  have  devel- 
oped into  the  second  through  the  lapse  of  however 
protracted  a  period.  Analysis  of  all  given  languages 


VIEWS  ON    VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

leads  us  back  to  roots;  experience  gives  us  interjections 
and  imitative  words  as  the  only  conceivable  beginning 
of  human  language.  If  the  two  can  be  united,  the 
problem  of  its  origin  is  solved.  Go  back  to  the  begin- 
ning of  conceptual  knowledge.  The  simplest  general 
concept  is  dual.  We  have,  for  example,  a  word  for 
father  and  one  for  mother;  to  express  the  concept 
parents  we  would  combine  the  two.  This  is  actually 
done.  In  Sanskrit  pitar  is  father  and  matar  is  mother ; 
matapitaren,  parents.  But  this  sort  of  combination  is 
cumbersome.  The  faculty  of  abstraction  has  helped 
us  out.  As  long  as  sheep,  for  instance,  are  alluded  to 
as  sheep,  or  cows  as  cows,  baa  and  moo  will  answer,  or, 
if  they  are  alluded  to  as  combined,  then  baa-moo;  but 
when  more  animals  are  included,  or  when  all,  an  ab- 
straction, a  compromise  of  sound,  is  needed.  This  pho- 
netic process,  this  friction  or  dis-specialization  of  imita- 
tive sounds,  Miiller  claims,  runs  exactly  parallel  with 
the  process  of  generalization  of  our  impressions,  and 
through  this  process  alone  are  we  able  to  understand 
how,  after  a  long  struggle,  the  uncertain  phonetic  imi- 
tations of  special  impressions  become  the  definite  pho- 
netic representations  of  general  concepts.  This  emi- 
nent linguist  maintains  that  in  the  formation  of  these 
roots  there  was  called  into  play  a  generalizing  power 
peculiar  to  man,  that  right  here  the  languages  of  the 
lower  animals  and  of  man  diverge. 

It  is  no  doubt  true  that  there  has  never  yet  been  dis- 
covered outside  the  human  race  any  articulate  speech, — 
the  employment  of  any  series  of  conventional  sounds 
distinguishable  by  us,  for  the  communication  of  rational 
ideas ;  but  does  this  fact  offer  sufficient  foundation  for 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN. 

the  belief  that  rational  thought  does  not  exist,  or  that 
the  lower  animals  are  left  wholly  unprovided  with  ade- 
quate means  for  its  expression  ?  It  does  seem  strange 
that,  having  organs  of  articulation  and  living  with  man 
for  so  many  thousands  of  years,  they  have  not  in  a  single 
instance  made  the  least  advance  toward  communicating 
with  him.  But  words  are  not  the  only  avenue  of  ra- 
tional thought.  The  congenital  mute  possesses  general 
concepts,  and  expresses  them  through  other  channels. 
Infants  understand  articulate  speech  long  before  they 
attempt  to  use  it ;  and  how  often  do  we  meet  with  ac- 
counts of  intelligent  dogs  and  horses  which  have  given 
clear  eVdence  of  understanding  the  wholly  unimpas- 
sioned  language  of  their  masters !  The  fact  that  the 
lower  animals  make  no  attempt  to  use  their  organs  of 
articulation  for  the  conveyance  of  thought  is,  therefore, 
by  no  means  fatal  to  a  belief  in  their  possessing  reason. 
Lord  Brougham  expresses  the  opinion  that  when  the 
bird,  dog,  or  horse  is  taught  by  tone  of  voice  or  gesture 
to  do  certain  things,  it  abstracts,  connecting  the  sign 
with  the  thing  signified.  The  fear  of  disobeying  or 
the  incentive  to  obedience  is  the  motive.  This  does 
not  give  him  the  means  of  connecting  the  act  with  the 
sign;  the  sign  is  as  purely  arbitrary  in  this  case  as  in 
human  language.  There  have  come  to  light  some 
most  marvellous  facts,  that  strongly  suggest  not  only 
that  they  have  rational  ideas,  but  that  they  have  ways, 
yet  unknown  to  science,  of  communicating  them  to  each 
other.  The  sacred  beetle,*  after  having  deposited  its 
egg,  as  is  its  wont,  in  a  ball  of  refuse,  rolls  it  about  in 

*  Duncan's  "Transformation  of  Insects,"  p.  280. 


132  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    qUESTIONS. 

search  of  some  fit  place  to  bury  it.  In  its  strange 
journey  it  now  and  then  meets  an  obstacle  it  is  unable 
to  master.  Having  exhausted  its  own  ingenuity  and 
strength,  by  no  means  inconsiderable,  it  leaves  the  ball, 
seemingly  in  discouragement,  as  having  abandoned  the 
enterprise.  But,  instead  of  that,  after  a  little,  back  it 
comes  with  one  or  more  helping  comrades.  The  right 
spot  being  finally  reached  through  their  assistance,  the 
beetle  digs  a  hole,  rolls  in  the  ball,  and  covers  it. 
Must  not  this  insect,  after  discovering  its  inability  sin- 
gle-handed to  effect  its  purpose,  not  only  have  deliber- 
ately thought  out  this  plan  of  relief,  but  afterward 
have  rationally  talked  it  over  with  its  fellows?*  Must 
they  not  have  intelligently  listened  to  the  recital  and, 
to  a  certain  extent  at  least,  have  reflected  as  to  the  na- 
ture of  their  reply?  The  act  of  depositing  the  egg 
must  have  been  instinctive,  for  the  beetle  could  not 
have  known  that  heat  was  necessary  to  hatch  it  and 
that  the  ball's  decomposition  would  produce  that  heat. 
But  the  insect's  blind  impulse  is  afterward  supple- 
mented by  conscious  reasoning  to  meet  an  unforeseen 
emergency,  and  rational  thought  is,  as  we  have  every 
reason  to  believe,  interchanged  through  some  channel 
yet  undiscovered. 

There  is  a  singular  story  told  by  Dupont  de  Nemours 
in  Autun's  "  Animaux  Celebres,"*  of  an  occurrence 
which  he  says  he  himself  witnessed.  A  swallow  had 
slipped  his  foot  into  the  noose  of  a  cord  attached  to 
.  a  spout  in  the  college  Des  Quatre  Nations,  at  Paris, 
and  by  endeavoring  to  escape  had  but  tightened  the 

*  Brougham,  vol.  vi.  p.  262. 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        133 

knot.  Its  strength  exhausted,  it  tittered  piteous  cries, 
which  called  about  it  a  vast  flock  of  other  swallows  from 
the  large  basiu  between  the  Tuileries  and  Pont  Neuf. 
After  crowding  around  and  for  a  while  apparently  con- 
sulting how  best  to  proceed,  one  of  the  number  darted 
out  and  struck  the  string  with  its  beak ;  another  fol- 
lowed, and  then  another,  in  quick  succession,  each  aim- 
ing at  the  same  spot,  the  entire  company  thus,  for  a 
space  of  thirty  minutes,  forming  themselves  into  the  rim 
of  a  whirling  wheel,  until,  by  their  joint  efforts,  they 
finally  cut  the  cord.  Though  now  there  was  nothing 
further  that  they  could  do,  they  seemed  very  loath  to 
disperse,  hovering  about  till  nightfall.  A  marked 
change,  however,  seemed  to  come  over  the  spirit  of  the 
assembly.  Instead  of  that  anxious,  agitated  tumult 
of  voices  at  the  first,  Nemours  thought  he  recognized 
a  contented,  happy  chatter,  suggesting  an  interchange 
of  congratulations  over  their  truly  remarkable  exploit. 
Herds  of  wild  horses,  flocks  of  pigeons  and  geese, 
communities  of  beavers,  swarms  of  bees,  colonies  of 
ants,  all  appoint  sentinels  and  have  concerted  signals. 
Wild  horses  have  been  observed  even  to  take  their 
turn  on  guard, — an  act  hardly  possible  unless  by  some 
rational  intercourse  they  have  mutually  agreed  to  such 
stated  relief.  Bees  and  ants  are  especially  noted  for 
their  division  of  labor.  Among  the  first,  besides  the 
patrol  of  watchmen,  there  are  foragers,  wax- workers, 
nurses,  scavengers,  and  fanners.  The  fanners,  about 
twenty  in  a  company,  form  a  line  along  some  thorough- 
fare in  the  hive,  fasten  themselves  by  their  feet  to  the 
floor,  and  for  a  half-hour  vibrate  their  wings  with 
great  vigor  and  constancy.  When  they  become  fatigued, 


134  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    qUESTIONS. 

others  take  their  places.  By  this  most  unique  method, 
ventilation,  so  essential  to  the  life  of  the  swarm,  is 
maintained. 

Reaumur  informs  us  that  when  a  forager,  whose 
duty  it  is  to  scour  the  fields,  meets  any  hungry  comrade 
who  has  not  had  time  to  leave  home,  it  stretches  out  its 
trunk  so  that  the  opening  to  its  honey-stomach  extends 
a  little  beyond  its  mandibles,  and  the  proffered  food  is 
promptly  accepted.  If  the  forager  has  not  thus  been 
met,  it  often  makes  a  tour  of  the  hive,  offering  a  lunch 
to  bees  it  finds  busily  polishing  and  bordering  the  cells, 
and  thereby  enabling  them  to  continue  their  work  with- 
out interruption.  This  same  courtesy  has  been  observed 
among  ants.  We  learn  from  Huber*  that  if  a  new 
queen  is  introduced  into  a  hive,  after  an  interregnum 
of  twenty-four  hours,  there  is  a  general  buzzing  an- 
nouncing the  arrival.  There  is  assigned  to  her  a  train 
of  picked  attendants,  who  draw  up  in  line  on  her  pass- 
ing by,  caress  her  with  the  tips  of  their  antennEe,  and 
offer  her  honey.  When  a  swarm  is  ready  to  move, 
delegates  are  selected  and  sent  out  to  find  a  suitable  site 
for  the  new  colony.  Sometimes  two  swarms  coalesce, 
and  then  fly  in  an  almost  direct  line  to  their  new  home, 
showing  that  the  report  of  the  scouts  lias  been  intelli- 
gently rendered  and  adopted. 

A  saucerf  of  syrup  was  once  placed  in  a  recess,  and 
a  bee  conveyed  to  it.  It  remained  there  five  or  six 
minutes,  and  then  flew  back  home.  In  about  a  quarter 

*  On  Bees,  p.  107. 

f  Sir  Benjamin  C.  Brodie's  "  Psychological  Inquiries,"  p.  189  ; 
who  quotes  from  M.  Dujardin's  "  Annales  des  Sciences  Natu- 
relles,"  tome  xviii.  p.  233. 


MENTAL   LIFE  BELOW   THE  HUMAN.        135 

of  an  hour,  thirty  other  bees  issued  from  the  same  hive 
and  regaled  themselves  from  the  saucer.  Their  visits 
continued  as  long  as  the  syrup  lasted,  but  the  inmates 
of  no  other  hive  in  the  apiary  made  their  appearance. 

The  younger  Huber*  one  day  took  an  ants'  nest  to 
populate  one  of  the  glass  bells  he  had  contrived  for 
making  observations.  One  part  of  the  colony  he  set 
at  liberty,  and  they  established  themselves  at  the  foot  of 
a  neighboring  chestnut-tree.  The  rest  were  kept  four 
months  in  close  confinement;  but,  on  being  removed 
into  the  garden,  a  few  escaped.  They,  meeting  their 
old  comrades,  made  every  demonstration  of  recognition, 
gesticulating  and  caressing  with  their  antennae  and 
taking  each  other  by  the  mandibles.  Then  they  all 
entered  the  nest  at  the  foot  of  the  tree.  Very  soon, 
however,  they  reappeared,  accompanied  by  many  others, 
to  look  for  those  still  under  the  bell.  In  a  few  hours 
the  bell  was  abandoned. 

This  same  painstaking  observerf  remarks  that  he 
often  amused  himself  by  dispersing  in  his  chamber 
fragments  of  ants'  nests.  The  inmates,  instead  of  fol- 
lowing in  each  other's  tracks,  as  caterpillars,  in  search 
of  shelter,  would  diverge  on  every  side.  They  fre- 
quently would  encounter  each  other,  for  a  long  time 
wandering  about  at  random.  At  last  one  of  the  num- 
ber would  find  a  chink  in  the  floor,  leading  to  some 
cavity  hidden  away  in  the  dark,  and  then  returning  to 
its  companions  would,  by  touch  of  antennae,  appear  to 
tell  them  the  good  news.  It  would  even  accompany 
some  to  the  hole,  and  these  in  their  turn  would  act  as 

*  On  Ants,  pp.  171-73.  f  Ibid.,  pp.  154-55. 


J36  VIEWS   ON    VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

guides.  Every  time  they  met,  they  would  stop  and 
strike  each  other  with  their  antennae,  apparently  im- 
parting information  as  to  the  route. 

Ants  of  the  same  species,*  having  the  same  form  and 
color,  will  often  be  at  war.  They  will  be  inhabitants 
of  different  cities.  How  do  they  distinguish  between 
friend  and  foe?  When,  through  any  inadvertence, 
they  chance  to  make  a  mistake,  they  no  sooner  discover 
it  than  they  relax  their  hold  and  affectionately  caress. 
The  affairs  of  the  two  republics  whose  citizens  are  thus 
met  in  battle  go  forward  without  either  confusion  or 
delay,  the  same  as  in  times  of  peace,  except  that  now 
and  then  reinforcements  will  march  out  of  the  villages, 
or  prisoners  be  borne  in.  In  a  battle  once  waged  be- 
tween sanguine  and  fallow  ants,  the  two  parties  placed 
themselves  in  ambuscade,  and  soon  after  commenced 
the  attack.  When  the  sanguines  perceived  the  enemy 
pouring  out  upon  them  in  overwhelming  numbers, 
couriers  were  instantly  despatched  to  bring  up  the  re- 
serves ;  and  it  was  not  long  before  from  the  village  of 
the  sanguines  there  issued  a  considerable  army,  which 
flanked  the  fallows  and  drove  them  from  the  field. 

Dupont  de  Nemours,  in  his  Memoirs,  relates  that  to 
guard  his  sugar-basin  against  the  ants  he  placed  it  in  a 
dish  of  water.  But  they  soon  climbed  to  the  ceiling 
directly  above,  and  dropped.  As  the  ceiling  was  high, 
and  there  was  in  the  room  a  strong  draught  of  air, 
some  fell  into  the  water.  Their  companions  running 
around  on  the  rim  of  the  vessel,  not  having  yet  ven- 
tured to  make  the  daring  leap,  tried  every  way  to  rescue 

*  Huber  on  Ants,  p.  193. 


MENTAL   LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        137 

the  unfortunate  adventurers.  Clinging  to  the  shore, 
they  stretched  out  their  bodies  to  the  utmost  over  the 
water,  but  to  little  purpose.  At  last,  growing  ex- 
tremely uneasy  at  the  sight  of  their  friends  drowning 
helplessly,  just  beyond  their  reach,  a  bright  thought 
seemed  to  strike  them.  A  few  were  seen  to  hasten  to 
the  ant-hill,  and  then  to  reappear,  bringing  with  them 
a  squad  of  eight  powerful,  large-framed  warriors. 
These,  without  the  least  hesitation,  plunged  into  the 
lake,  swam  vigorously  to  the  drowning  ants,  seized 
them  with  their  pincers,  and  brought  eleven  of  them 
straight  to  land.  They  then  rolled  them  in  the  dust, 
brushed  and  rubbed  them,  and  stretched  themselves 
upon  them  to  impart  some  of  their  own  warmth,  and 
then  again  rolled  and  rubbed  them.  Four  fully  re- 
vived ;  another,  being  but  partially  brought  to  life,  was 
carried  most  carefully  to  the  home-hill.  The  remain- 
ing six,  though  dead,  were  not  abandoned,  but  affection- 
ately borne  back  for  burial.  This  seems  like  a  tale  of 
fairy-land,  yet  Dupout  de  Nemours  testifies  that  he 
himself  was  an  eye-witness  of  the  scene,  and  his  ac- 
count is  in  consonance  with  what  is  narrated  by  other 
observers  of  the  exploits  of  these  truly  wonderful  crea- 
tures. 

There  is  no  necessity  for  further  multiplying  in- 
stances under  this  head.  If  what  I  have  recounted  is 
true, — and  I  have  taken  the  precaution  to  select  my  in- 
cidents from  only  well-accredited  authors,- — it  seems  to 
me  quite  impossible  to  deny  that  at  least  some  of  the 
animals  below  us  have  in  some  way,  to  at  least  a  limited 
extent,  interchanged  rational  thought.  The  channel  of 
communication  is  still,  and  perhaps  ever  will  be,  a  mys- 

7* 


138  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

tery,  and,  a3  we  can  only  note  results  which  to  us  im- 
ply the  existence  of  such  interchange,  we  are  liable, 
it  is  true,  to  have  our  interpretations  of  scenes  which 
partake  largely,  almost  entirely,  of  pantomime,  colored 
by  our  own  experiences.  Yet  while  this  reflection 
should  place  us  on  our  guard  and  lead  us  to  inquire 
diligently  whether  some  other  interpretation  is  not  pos- 
sible, when  it  alone  is  found  adequate  to  answer  the 
conditions  of  the  problem  we  ought  no  longer  to  hesi- 
tate in  adopting  it  as  the  true  solution.  But  at  best  we 
are  not  warranted  in  ascribing  to  even  the  most  ad- 
vanced of  the  lower  animals  anything  more  than  the 
first  faint  glimmerings  of  reason, — -just  enough  of  this 
higher  faculty  being  granted  them  to  meet  the  demands 
of  exceedingly  rare  emergencies  when  even  instinct, 
which  generally  is  so  trustworthy  and  masterful,  reaches 
the  limitations  of  its  power. 

The  next  question  that  confronts  us  in  this  inquiry 
is,  do  the  lower  animals  possess  any  moral  discernment, 
do  they  ever  act  on  principle,  do  they  know  what  it  is 
to  have  an  approving  conscience  or  to  feel  the  pangs  of 
remorse?  This  subject  is  too  broad  to  receive  the 
attention  it  deserves,  and  original  investigators  upon 
whose  care  and  candor  we  can  rely  have  gathered  for  us 
too  few  facts  to  warrant  any  settled  conclusion.  How- 
ever, I  am  at  present  strongly  inclined  to  answer  in  the 
negative.  At  all  events,  the  vast  majority  of  the  acts 
of  animals,  which  at  first  seem  to  be  prompted  by  either 
some  worthy  or  unworthy  motive,  evincing  moral  char- 
acter, are  on  further  examination  discovered  to  be  solely 
the  results  of  unconscious,  instinctive  impulse,  to  which 
not  the  least  responsibility  attaches.  It  is  only  in  some 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        139 

of  those  rare,  exceptional  emergencies  to  which  allusion 
has  been  made,  that  the  lower  animals  act  consciously 
and  with  deliberation.  When  a  lioness  endures  every 
manner  of  privation  in  care  for  her  cubs,  or  even  ex- 
poses herself  to  most  imminent  peril  in  their  defence, 
there  is  in  fact  no  moral  heroism  in  her  devotion,  for 
her  conduct  is  purely  instinctive.  She  is  driven  to  it 
by  a  blind  impulse  which  it  is  absolutely  impossible 
for  her  to  resist.  Among  all  the  animals,  after  a  cer- 
tain set  season  this  maternal  love  is  succeeded  by  indif- 
ference, and  inmany  instances  by  absolute  estrangement 
and  marked  antipathy;  and  this  alienation  succeeds  the 
love  with  such  regularity  that  it  has  come  to  be  re- 
garded as  controlled  by  unchangeable  law.  With  us, 
but  never  with  them,  this  instinctive  love  is  followed 
by  a  rational  one. 

When  the  spider  spins  its  web,  or  pounces  upon  the 
fly  struggling  in  the  meshes,  when  any  beast  of  prey 
tears  the  flesh  and  sucks  the  life-blood  of  its  victim,  it 
at  the  first  appears  to  us  as  heartlessly  cruel,  as  the  very 
epitome  of  selfishness,  as  ruthlessly  trampling  down 
most  sacred  rights ;  but,  on  second  thought,  we  excul- 
pate it  from  all  blame,  for  He  who  gave  the  weapons 
of  attack  gave  also  the  carnivorous  instincts.  As  well 
blame  a  bursting  volcano  that  burns  and  buries  a  peo- 
pled city.  Bees  show  no  hard-heartedness  when  they 
despatch  the  drones  with  their  poisoned  daggers.  They 
are  not  justly  open  to  the  charge  of  traitorous  conspiracy 
when  they  without  ceremony  strike  down  a  useless 
queen  to  whom  they  have,  their  lives  through,  appar- 
ently paid  the  highest  honors.  It  would  be  a  different 
matter  if  British  subjects,  or  even  if  British  officials, 


140  VIEWS  ON    VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

should  thus  summarily  despatch  their  sovereign  because 
she  had  outlived  her  usefulness.  It  would  be  equally 
idle  for  us  to  charge  a  young  queen-bee  with  jealousy 
whose  first  act  is  to  stab  in  their  cradles  all  those  help- 
less royal  infants  which  may  some  day  battle  with  her 
for  sovereignty. 

Dragon-flies*  are  perhaps  the  most  bloodthirsty  crea- 
tures known  in  nature.  Their  vision  is  acute,  and  they 
fly  with  amazing  rapidity  in  every  direction  without 
being  subject  to  the  delay  of  turning ;  their  mouth  is 
strengthened  to  the  utmost;  their  stout  jaws  end  in 
sharp  points ;  their  mandibles  are  provided  with  keen 
teeth,  and  their  lower  lips  are  very  large,  with  palps 
short  and  thick.  Thus  armed,  they  chase  and  pull  down . 
every  fly,  moth,  or  butterfly  within  their  reach.  They 
rend  and  destroy  these  delicate  creatures  often  from 
wanton  cruelty  we  should  be  apt  to  think,  as  they  make 
no  use  of  them,  just  from  some  demoniacal  passion  for 
inflicting  torture  on  the  helpless.  It  would  be  very 
natural  for  us  to  pronounce  upon  them  our  severest 
maledictions.  But  such  judgment  would  be  world- 
wide of  the  truth.  They  are  as  innocent  as  a  buzz- 
saw  whose  teeth  tear  the  fingers  of  a  careless  workman. 

Is  the  cuckoo  reprehensible  because  she  lays  her  eggs, 
when  possible,  in  the  nests  of  other  birds  ?  or  are  her 
children,  which  thus  become  the  nurslings  of  strangers, 
prompted  by  base  ingratitude  when  they  crowd  out  of 
the  nest  the  offspring  of  those  very  ones  which  have 
thus  kindly  befriended  them  ?  It  is  pretty  well  settled 
that  both  are  controlled  by  instinctive  promptings, 

*  Duncan's  "Transformation  of  Insects,"  p.  355. 


MENTAL   LIFE  BELOW   THE  HUMAN.        141 

though  the  mother  has  been  observed  to  occasionally 
build  her  own  nest  and  rear  her  own  brood.  The  man- 
of-war-bird,  whose  exclusive  food  is  fish,  has  neither 
the  implement  nor  the  instinct  for  catching  them,  and 
so,  perforce,  turns  freebooter,  plundering  more  expert 
divers  whenever  an  opportunity  offers. 

There  are  some  ants  with  mandibles  arched,  narrow, 
and  sharp,  meant  for  war,  not  work.  They  belong  to 
the  species  Pplyergus.  They  inhabit  underground  nests, 
built  for  them  by  brown  and  mining  ants,  the  workers 
of  other  colonies,  which  have  been  taken  captive  by 
them  in  battle.  Huber,  in  his  seventh  chapter,  gives 
an  extended  and  very  interesting  account  of  an  engage- 
ment between  these  tribes,  which  he  himself  witnessed 
near  Geneva,  in  1804.  His  attention,  he  tells  us,  was 
'first  arrested  by  a  great  mass  of  large,  russet-colored 
ants  crossing  the  road.  They  marched  rapidly,  in  a 
solid  column  eight  to  ten  feet  long  by  three  to  four 
inches  broad.  They  soon  came  near  a  nest  of  blackish- 
colored  ants.  The  several  sentinels  stationed  about  the 
door  no  sooner  saw  the  approaching  army  than  they 
spread  the  alarm  and  boldly  dashed  upon  the  front  of 
the  column.  A  crowd  came  rushing  out  from  the  en- 
closure. The  invaders  quickened  their  pace,  pushed 
back  their  assailants,  and  clambered  up  the  sides  of  the 
dome.  Some  forced  a  passage  along  the  widest  avenues ; 
others,  with  their  mandibles,  made  a  breach  in  the  walls. 
Through  this  opening  the  main  army  then  poured  in, 
and  the  inhabitants  of  the  city  at  once  fell  an  easy  prey 
to  the  pillagers.  In  three  or  four  minutes  the  victors 
issued  forth  in  great  haste,  each  one  holding  between  its 
mandibles  a  larva  or  nymph,  which  it  bore  in  triumph 


142  VIEWS  ON    VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

to  the  home-hill.  The  children  thus  stolen  grow  up, 
we  are  told,  into  serfs,  and  are  assigned  the  household 
cares  and  labors  of  their  captors.  Here  is  an  organized 
and  thoroughly-armed  band  of  robbers,  who  positively 
refuse  to  do  a  stroke  of  work  themselves,  but  make  it 
their  life-profession  to  invade  the  firesides  of  the  weak 
and  kidnap  their  helpless  infants,  in  order  that  they 
may  have  drudges  and  slaves  to  build  and  nurse  and 
forage  for  them  while  they  idle  and  fight.  Have  we 
presented  us  in  the  life-habits  of  these  insects  an  actual 
counterpart  of  that  barbarous  African  slave-trade  and 
system  of  Southern  servitude  that  once  brought  us  under 
the  Divine  displeasure,  that  cost  us  our  good  name  and 
nearly  our  national  life?  or  are  these  little  creatures 
only  blindly  obeying  impulses  they  have  no  power  to 
resist?  Is  the  responsibility  upon  them,  or  upon  Him 
out  of  whose  armory  they  received  their  weapons,  and 
in  whose  academy  they  were  trained  for  fight? 

Yerreaux  states*  that  a  custom  prevails  among  ants 
belonging  to  an  Austrian  genus  called  Thynus,  in 
which  the  males  have  long  bodies  with  wings  and 
straight  antennae,  and  the  females  short  ones  without 
wings  and  with  twisted  antennae,  for  the  male  to  carry 
the  female  about  with  him  in  his  flights,  and  treat  her 
with  chivalric  politeness,  placing  her  on  flower  after 
flower,  that  she  may  sip  their  nectar.  Frequently, 
however,  other  males,  without  mates,  chance  in  the 
vicinity,  and  become  enamored.  At  once  deadly  jeal- 
ousies are  seemingly  enkindled,  and  a  fight  follows.  If 
the  protector  perceives  himself  being  gradually  over- 

*  Duncan's  "  Transformation  of  Insects,"  p.  217. 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        143 

borne,  as  a  last  resort,  in  order  that  he  may  disappoint 
the  suitors,  he  falls  upon  her  ladyship  and  unceremo- 
niously eats  her  up. 

Ants  have  frequently  been  seen  carrying  tired  com- 
rades and  feeding  hungry  ones.  They  have  been  seen 
succoring  the  wounded  and  helping  them  off  the  field 
during  the  progress  of  an  engagement.  The  sacred 
beetle,  we  have  remarked,  will,  upon  invitation,  assist  a 
comrade,  and  under  such  extraordinary  circumstances 
it  would  seem  that  it  was  conscious  of  the  act  and 
actually  entertained  a  benevolent  purpose.  In  most 
instances  in  which  animals  appear  conscious  of  having 
done  wrong,  of  feeling  remorse,  their  conduct  can  be 
traced  simply  to  a  remembrance  of  former  correction, 
and  to  a  fear  that  it  may  be  repeated.  The  gentle, 
loving  faithfulness  of  our  old  dog  Tray  it  is  difficult 
to  believe  is  as  blindly  instinctive  as  the  conduct  of  his 
wild  brother,  the  wolf,  when  the  latter  devours,  with- 
out sign  of  compassion,  any  comrade  that,  in  the  chances 
of  the  chase,  is  so  unfortunate  as  to  receive  a  wound. 
But  we  may  clear  our  vision  somewhat  on  this  most 
perplexed  question  if  we  reflect  on  our  own  instincts, — 
for  we  are  by  no  means  left  wholly  without  such  guides. 
Who  has  not  checked  himself  in  the  act  of  striking  the 
stone  which  has  caused  him  to  stumble?  This  anger 
is  simply  the  instinct  of  self-preservation.  It  is  in- 
stantaneous, and  for  the  moment  resistless,  until  after 
long  discipline  our  reason  supplants  it.  How  many 
persons,  of  naturally  generous  temperament,  receive 
praise  for  acts  equally  characterless!  As  well  com- 
mend a  thirsty  traveller  on  some  burning  desert  for 
lifting  a  cup  of  cool  water  to  his  lips.  In  either  case 


144  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   qUESTIONS. 

there  is  a  response  to  the  call  of  only  a  blind,  unreason- 
ing impulse.  The  evidence  of  the  existence  of  free 
choice  and  of  moral  motive  would  appear  in  resisting 
the  impulse.  True,  such  choice  and  motive  might  ex- 
ist, and  they  often  do,  when  the  act  is  in  the  line  of  the 
impulse ;  but  we  are  left  absolutely  without  proof  of  it 
until  we  have  examples  in  which  such  impulse  existed 
and  was  withstood.  The  ant  that  helped  his  comrade 
off  the  field  of  battle  was,  for  aught  we  know,  as  un- 
thinkingly following  an  instinct  as  the  wolf  that  ate  up 
his  wounded  brother. 

The  Darwinian  school  of  thinkers  have  attempted  to 
show  that  in  matter  of  moral  discernment  and  account- 
ability the  difference  between  man  and  the  lower 
animals  is  not  radical,  but  one  only  of  degree.  Darwin 
represents  that  man*  is  urged  at  times  by  opposing 
instincts;  that  he  will  follow  the  stronger, — and  that  if 
the  one  that  is  for  the  moment  stronger  leaves  on  the 
mind,  after  its  gratification,  a  less  vivid  impression  than 
the  one  denied,  then  remorse  or  regret  will  ensue  by  the 
retrospect ;  but  if  it  leaves  one  more  vivid,  then  there 
will  be  experienced  a  feeling  of  satisfaction.  This 
remorse  or  satisfaction,  as  the  case  may  be,  Darwin 
defines  as  conscience;  remarking  that  the  migratory 
birds  who  leave  their  fledglings  to  perish  at  the  north, 
and  join  company  with  the  iioisy,  restless  crowd  of 
emigrants  for  the  sunnier  clime,  would,  in  common 
with  man,  have  twinges  of  conscience  at  the  thought 
of  their  deserted  little  ones,  were  their  memories  equally 
vivid,  their  maternal  and  their  migratory  instincts 

*  Descent  of  Man,  vol.  i.  p.  87. 


MENTAL  LIFE   BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        145 

urging  them  oppositely,  and  the  less  noble  with  the 
greater  power.  But,  we  may  ask,  can  nobility  be  pred- 
icated of  instinct,  if,  as  he  himself  allows  in  the 
same  volume,*  the  very  essence  of  an  instinct  is  that 
it  is  followed  independently  of  reason?  Where  in- 
stincts have  the  mastery,  would  it  not  be  cruel  in  the 
Creator  to  make  remorse  possible?  Indeed,  in  the 
very  nature  of  things,  could  it  be  possible?  Are  not 
it  and  its  opposite  but  the  concomitants  of  the  power 
and  privilege  of  choice? 

Herbert  Spencer,  in  a  letter  to  John  Stuart  Mill, 
quoted  in  Bain's  "  Mental  and  Moral  Science/'  remarks, 
"I  believe  that  the  experiences  of  utility,  organized 
and  consolidated  through  all  past  generations  of  the 
human  race,  have  been  producing  corresponding  modi- 
fications, which,  by  continued  transmission  and  accu- 
mulation, have  become  in  us  faculties  of  moral  intuition, 
certain  emotions  responding  to  right  and  wrong  con- 
duct, which  have  no  apparent  basis  in  the  individual 
experiences  of  utility."  Darwin,  Spencer,  and  Mill, 
though  by  no  means  disciples  of  the  same  school  of 
philosophy,  are,  from  the  very  exigencies  of  their  sep- 
arate creeds,  forced  to  assert  that,  in  spite  of  the  great 
present  difference  between  ideas  of  useful  and  right, 
they  are  in  their  origin  one,  being  but  differentiations 
of  pleasurable  and  painful  sensations.  Right,  accord- 
ing to  them,  as  Sir  George  Mivart  remarks  in  his 
"  Genesis  of  Species,"  is  but  the  gradual  accretion  of 
useful  predilections,  which,  from  time  to  time,  have 
arisen  in  the  minds  of  a  long  line  of  ancestors.  In- 

*  Descent  of  Man,  pp.  95,  96. 


146  VIEWS   ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

heriting  a  tendency  to  useful  habits,  we,  as  they  hold, 
come  at  last  to  consider  it  innate  and  independent  of 
all  experience.  Self-gratification,  which  was  the  initial 
motive,  is  finally  by  the  power  of  inherited  habit  lost 
sight  of,  and  it  comes  to  be  considered  true  that  our 
perceptions  of  right  and  duty  are  intuitive;  in  other 
words,  according  to  utilitarianism  supreme  self-love 
becomes  at  last  the  noblest  self-abnegation. 

In  the  lower  animals  there  are  useful  acts  which  re- 
semble moral  ones,  and  Darwin  from  this  argues  that 
we  in  our  moral  nature  are  but  developed  brutes. 
Rev.  W.  W.  Roberts  has  exposed  the  contradictory 
position  of  John  Stuart  Mill,  who  was  one  of  the  most 
able  of  the  utilitarians.  Mill  in  his  writings,  speaking 
of  God,  says,  "  I  will  call  no  being  good  who  is  not 
what  I  mean  when  I  apply  that  epithet  to  my  fellow- 
creatures  ;  and,  if  such  a  being  can  sentence  me  to  hell 
for  not  so  calling  him,  to  hell  I  will  go."  Of  course 
he  would  advise  every  one  to  take  this  same  stand. 
Rather  than  compromise  his  moral  convictions,  he  here 
expresses  himself  willing  not  only  to  forego  the  joys 
of  heaven,  but,  if  need  be,  even  to  endure  the  hopeless 
miseries  of  the  damned.  In  the  glow  of  his  nobler 
intuitions  as  a  man,  the  cold,  hard  crystals  of  his  phi- 
losophy thus  melt  like  frost-work. 

The  maxim,  "  Fiat  justitia,  mat  codum"  Mivart 
justly  argues  could  never  have  come  out  of  utilitarian- 
ism. Although  the  ultimate  result  of  virtue  is  joy, 
yet  virtue,  not  joy,  is  the  end  sought  by  the  truly  vir-- 
tuous.  Moral  abhorrence  of  the  impure  and  wrong, 
self-sacrificing  devotion  to  the  right,  cannot  grow  out 
of  mere  notions  of  utility.  Water  will  not  flow  higher 


MENTAL   LIFE  BELOW  THE  HUMAN.        147 

than  its  fountain-head.  The  real  truth  is,  these  intui- 
tions have  been  forced  to  stem  the  tide  of  utilitarian 
objections  from  age  to  age  and  have  survived  despite 
their  influence.  If  there  were  no  incentive  to  right 
action  but  notions  of  utility,  moral  disruption  would 
ensue.  Spencer  asserts  that  the  fact  that  exact  retribu- 
tion is  meted  to  all  in  this  life  will  act  as  an  effectual 
preventive.  In  the  first  place,  present  retribution  is 
not  proved,  and,  in  the  second,  most  men  do  not  be- 
lieve it,  history  and  biography  witnessing  pointedly 
against  it.  Spencer's  model  man  could  only  be  actuated 
by 'the  intensest  self-love. 

If  then  it  be  true  that  the  lower  animals  in  their 
best  estate  of  conscious  thought  reach  no  higher  than 
to  entertain  questions  of  mere  utility,  which  seems 
quite  probable  from  the  facts  thus  far  brought  to  light, 
there  exists  between  them  and  us  in  matters  of  moral 
discernment  and  motive  and  accountability  not  only  a 
marked  but  a  positively  radical  difference. 

We  cannot  properly  conclude  our  present  inquiry 
without  at  least  calling  attention  to  a  further  and,  if 
possible,  a  still  more  difficult  question  than  any  we  have 
yet  considered.  It  is  this:  Have  the  lower  animals 
any  share  with  us  in  immortality?  It  might  be  urged 
that  the  very  fact  that  some  of  them,  at  least,  have  to 
a  certain  extent  reached  a  state  of  self-consciousness, 
and  had  dawned  upon  them,  however  faintly,  the  light 
of  reason,  furnishes  presumptive  evidence  that  they 
liave  actually  stepped  upon  the  threshold  of  an  endless 
life.  The  majority  of  Christian  thinkers  regard  the 
Bible  as  disfavoring  this  theory.  But  the  proof-texts 
usually  quoted  in  this  connection  have,  I  think,  been 


148  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

clearly  shown*  to  be  wholly  irrelevant.  There  are, 
however,  considerations  drawn  from  the  peculiar  nature 
of  the  Mental  Life  below  the  Human,  which  incline 
me  to  the  belief  that  there  is  in  it  no  promise  of  per- 
petuity. The  most  conclusive  arguments  upon  which 
we  base  our  own  hopes  of  immortality,  outside  the 
Divine  revelation,  are  drawn  from  certain  mental  traits 
we  possess,  which  are  in  pointed  contrast  to  those  with 
which  the  lower  animals  have  been  endowed.  With 
them  instinct  is  supreme;  with  us,  reason  ;  and  as  widely 
as  these  endowments  differ,  so  do  our  experiences,  our 
purposes,  and  our  prospects.  They  are  born  experts. 
They  have  no  incentive  to  growth,  having  no  necessity 
for  it ;  they  consequently  make  no  progress,  and  desire 
none.  They  have,  it  is  true,  a  certain  amount  of  curi- 
osity, but  none  which  leads  to  true  mental  development. 
In  a  certain  sense,  it  may  be  said,  they  make  slight 
improvement.  The  cat  teaches  her  kittens  to  hunt; 
ants  join  in  mock  battle ;  lions  practise  leaping ;  birds 
slightly  improve  their  nests.  Instincts  are  susceptible 
of  some  modifications,  and  on  rare  occasions  and  under 
the  pressure  of  extraordinary  emergencies  have,  as  I 
believe,  been  supplemented  even  by  reason.  But  this 
higher  faculty,  thus  vouchsafed  for  present  mainte- 
nance, disappears  the  moment  the  pressure  is  removed 
and  instinct  reasserts  its  sovereignty.  During  the  four 
thousand  years  of  our  acquaintance  with  their  history, 
they  have  remained  substantially  stationary.  They 
have  no  ambition,  and  seemingly  no  faculty  for  ad- 
vancement. Any  impetus  given  them  by  man  proves 

*  Vide  Bev.  J.  G.  Wood's  "Man  and  Beast,"  opening  chapter. 


MENTAL  LIFE  BELOW   THE  HUMAN.        149 

temporary,  they,  under  a  law  of  atavism,  dropping 
back  again  to  the  old  level  when  man's  hand  is  re- 
moved. They  are  admirably  equipped  for  this  life,  but 
for  this  alone.  Instinct's  sole  mission  is  to  care  for  the 
body,  and  instinct  is  the  dominant  form  of  their  men- 
tality, their  reason,  what  little  they  have,  being  simply 
instinct's  assistant,  charged  as  it  is  with  this  specific 
trust.  There  is  thus,  so  far  as  we  can  discover,  no  ulte- 
rior purpose  than  to  conserve  the  body  of  the  individual 
and  to  perpetuate  the  species.  We  can  detect  in  them 
no  unsatisfied  longings.  Their  mental  horizon  seems 
bounded  by  the  Now  and  the  Near.  We  do  not  know 
of  their  making  any  preparation  for  another  exist- 
ence, of  their  sacrificing  anything  for  principle,  of  their 
jeopardizing  the  interests  of  the  life  they  now  have,  as 
though  they  regarded  it  as  secondary  and  transitory,  or 
of  their  thoughts  ever  reaching  beyond  the  present  to 
a  wider,  grander  destiny. 

Although  it  is  extremely  difficult,  as  we  have  seen,  if 
not  impossible,  to  draw  sharply  the  dividing-line  be- 
tween the  mineral  and  the  vegetable,  between  the  vege- 
table and  the  lower  animal,  and  between  the  lower 
animal  and  man,  yet  no  one  can  rise  from  a  careful 
examination  of  their  prominent  characteristics  without 
carrying  with  him  a  profound  conviction  that  each 
marks  not  only  an  important  but  a  radical  departure 
in  creation.  This  series  of  changes  is  an  ascending 
one,  constituting  four  successive  steps  in  the  evolution 
of  a  Divine  Ideal. 

The  chemical  forces  are  unalterably  conditioned. 
Here  is  the  reign  of  absolutism,  of  mathematical  for- 


150  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

mulas,  of  fixed  fate.  Their  energizings  are  marked  by 
the  utter  absence  of  choice.  In  the  vegetable  forces 
we  note  the  first  faint  dawn  of  a  day  of  liberty.  The 
species  are  slightly  modified  by  climatic  influences,  by 
differences  in  soil,  moisture,  or  sunlight,  and  by  cross- 
breeding: so  that  varieties  have  been  multiplied  and 
improved  by  both  natural  and  artificial  changes  in  their 
environment,  though  these  modifications  have  proved 
extremely  circumscribed  and  unstable.  Some  types  of 
vegetable  life,  as  the  carnivorous  sundew  family,  even 
give  out  strange  prophecies  of  the  coming  of  still 
higher  forms  of  force.  In  the  lower  animals  appear 
self-consciousness,  free  locomotion,  and  the  instinctive 
impulse,  supplemented  by  memory,  imagination,  com- 
parison, the  emotions,  even  rational  thought;  and  so 
closely  do  these  creatures  border  on  responsible  free- 
will that  we  are  left  somewhat  in  doubt  whether  they 
are  not  accountable  and  destined  to  share  with  us  in  an 
immortal  life. 

While  in  man  there  appear  all  these  lower  forms  of 
force,  the  chemical,  the  vegetable,  and  the  animal,  in 
him  alone  we  find  the  clear  light  of  reason,  the  power 
of  moral  discernment,  full  freedom  of  choice,  a  vivid 
sense  of  accountability,  and  the  promise  of  an  endless 
growth.  Though  in  vast  numbers  of  the  human  race 
the  Divine  Ideal  has  not  been  attained,  yet  in  all  it  is 
certainly  attainable.  The  progress  of  the  ages  is  hope- 
fully toward  the  breaking  of  every  fetter,  and  the  final 
development,  in  Christ-born  sons  of  God,  of  a  perfected 
Individuality,  through  the  largest  Liberty  under  Law. 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN? 


IN  Devonshire,  overhanging  the  little  harbor  of  Brix- 
ham,  where  the  Prince  of  Orange  first  stepped  upon 
British  soil,  a  limestone  hill  lifts  its  head  a  hundred 
feet  above  the  level  of  the  sea.  From  the  earliest  his- 
toric times  it  has  thus  been  standing  alone  in  the  midst 
of  fertile  valleys,  and  not  a  single  vague  tradition  has 
floated  down  to  us  from  forgotten  centuries  to  tell  of 
any  essential  change  in  the  features  of  the  landscape. 
But  in  1858  the  hand  of  some  accident  broke  through 
the  crust  of  one  of  its  steep  cliffs  near  its  summit  and 
laid  bare  what  afterward  proved  a  suite  of  long  narrow 
caverns.  Their  contents,  before  they  were  disturbed 
by  unskilled  fingers,  were  systematically  explored  by  a 
committee  of  geologists  appointed  by  the  Royal  Society, 
and  every  detail  of  their  wonderful  revelations  carefully 
noted.  After  clearing  away  the  loose  debris  that  choked 
the  passages,  they  came  first  upon  a  firm  flooring  of 
stalagmite,  then  a  deposit  of  reddish  loam,  and  last  a 
bed  of  clear  gravel..  Pebbles  of  hematite  with  worn 
surfaces  were  scattered  through  the  gravel,  with  their 
long  axes  in  every  instance  parallel  with  the  sides  of 
the  caverns,  and  on  a  line  with  north-and-south  outlets, 
discovered  as  the  work  progressed.  The  loam  abounded 

151 


152  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

in  bones  of  mammoths,  rhinoceri,  cave-bears,  hyenas, 
lions,  reindeer,  and  other  extinct  mammalia,  occupying 
positions  similar  to  the  oblong  pebbles  beneath  them. 
Here  and  there  in  the  same  deposit,  generally  more 
deeply  embedded  than  the  bones,  nearly  a  score  of  flint 
knives  were  found  lying.  One  of  these  almost  touched 
the  hind  leg  of  a  cave-bear,  not  a  bone  of  which  was 
wanting  or  misplaced.  The  stalagmite  above  held  the 
humerus  of  a  bear  and  the  antler  of  a  reindeer.  Across 
the  valleys,  hematite  and  limestone  were  found  in 
quarry.  The  elements  had  decomposed  the  surfaces 
of  the  lime  into 'the  same  kind  of  reddish  loam  that 
had  been  deposited  in  the  hollows  of  the  hill. 

These  subterranean  passages,  now  ninety  feet  above 
the  sea,  and  over  sixty  above  the  adjacent  plains,  the 
nature  of  whose  contents  has  been  placed  by  the  pre- 
cautions of  science  beyond  the  reach  of  controversy,  we 
may  safely  affirm  were  once  the  bed  of  a  powerful  and 
turbid  river,  whose  waters,  checked  in  their  flow  by 
their  tortuous  windings  among  the  clefts  in  the  rock, 
were  forced  to  throw  down  the  plunder  with  which 
they  had  laden  themselves  in  their  marauding  course 
through  the  country.  The  rounded  condition  of  the 
north-and-south  entrances,  the  worn  sides  of  the  peb- 
bles, and  the  direction  in  which  they  and  the  bones 
were  alike  lying,  together  with  the  fact  that  stalagmite 
crusted  the  bone-earth  of  none  but'  those  galleries  that 
were  in  a  measure  removed  from  the  main  channel  and 
not  subject  to  inundation  except  in  times  of  freshet, 
are,  every  one  of  them,  unmistakable  footprints  of 
running  water.  That  the  animals  and  the  men  whose 
bones  and  whose  flint  knives  were  indiscriminately  dis- 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN?     153 

tributed  through  the  caves  must  have  been  contempora- 
ries, that  these,  their  remains,  were  not  the  heteroge- 
neous washings  of  sundry  deposits  of  widely  differing 
dates,  the  leg  of  the  bear  and  the  antler  of  the  reindeer, 
it  is  claimed,  furnish  convincing  proof. 

During  the  last  hundred  years,  five  boats,  one  of 
them  containing  marine  shells,  have  been  dug  out  of 
the  estuarine  silt  below  the  soil  on  which  Glasgow 
stands,  and  within  its  very  precincts.  They  were  evi- 
dently shipwrecked  at  a  time  when  the  site  of  the  city 
was  part  of  the  bed  of  the  sea.  Under  the  streets  of 
London,  whose  authentic  history  dates  back  full  nine- 
teen centuries,  there  lies  a  deposit  of  gravel  of  broken 
flints,  through  which  have  been  found,  widely  distrib- 
uted, the  bones  of  elephants  and  of  hippopotami,  to- 
gether with  the  rude  stone  implements  of  men.  Geolo- 
gists are  satisfied  that  this  is  a  river-drift ;  yet  the  valley 
washed  by  the  Thames  to-day  sinks  full  forty  feet  be- 
low. Two  miles  from  Bedford,  flint  tools,  elephant 
teeth,  and  fresh-water  shells  were  found  resting  on 
solid  beds  of  oolitic  limestone,  covered  by  thirteen  feet 
of  undisturbed  stratified  gravel  and  sand. 

The  continent  has  also  yielded  to  the  industrious  re- 
searches of  science  a  plentiful  harvest  of  human  relics 
of  great  antiquity.  The  Danish  peat-mosses  rest  on 
northern  drift  and  vary  from  ten  to  thirty  feet  in  thick- 
ness. Trunks  of  Scotch  fir  lie  prostrate  in  the  lowest 
peat;  above  them  are  specimens  of  the  sessile  variety 
of  oak ;  higher  still,  the  pedunculated ;  over  all,  the 
common  beech,  a  tree  which  has  been  through  the 
entire  historic  period,  and  is  to-day,  the  prevailing 
forest  growth  of  these  regions.  There  is  no  record  of 

8 


154  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

the  fir  ever  having  been  indigenous,  and  when  intro- 
duced it  invariably  languishes.  As  it  was  once  king  of 
the  woods,  radical  changes  must  have  taken  place  in 
the  climate  to  have  thus  secured  its  permanent  banish- 
ment. Since  then,  at  least  two  other  classes  of  forests 
have  successively  skirted  the  borders  of  the  bogs,  and 
in  their  turn  vacated  the  soil  for  a  more  powerful  rival. 
Flint  tools  were  buried  far  down  in  the  peat  under  the 
firs,  swords  and  shields  of  bronze  lay  among  the  oaks, 
while  implements  of  iron  rarely  reached  below  em- 
bedded trunks  of  the  modern  beech.  Fresh-  and  salt- 
water shells  and  the  bones  of  mammalia  were  met  with 
at  all  depths.  None  were  of  extinct  species. 

The  Meuse  and  its  tributaries  are  bordered  by  high 
bluffs  of  mountain  limestone.  The  mouths  of  caverns 
here  and  there  open  on  their  almost  perpendicular 
faces,  often  two  hundred  feet  above  the  water-level. 
Over  forty  of  the  chambers  to  which  they  lead  have 
been  entered  by  men  of  science,  their  hard  crusts  of 
stalagmite  broken  through,  and  the  contents  of  the 
breccia,  or  cemented  masses  beneath,  thoroughly  exam- 
ined. The  University  of  Liege  has  among  the  curiosi- 
ties of  its  museum  a  human  skull  taken  from  one  of 
them.  It  was  embedded  five  feet  deep,  in  the  same 
mass  with  the  tooth  of  a  rhinoceros,  and  the  bones  of  a 
reindeer  and  of  other  mammalia.  Near  the  tooth  of  a 
mammoth,  almost  within  touching-distance,  the  skull 
of  a  child  was  also  found,  but  it  proved  too  fragile  to 
be  removed.  In  another  cave,  in  the  same  matrix 
with  the  remains  of  a  rhinoceros,  was  a  polished  needle 
of  bone  with  an  eye  pierced  through  it  at  the  base.  In 
still  another,  two  feet  below  the  stalagmite,  three  pieces 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN?     155 

of  a  human  skull  and  two  perfect  lower  jaws  with 
teeth  were  intermingled  with  bones  of  bears,  elephants, 
mammoths,  and  rhinoceri.  Stone  knives  were  also  fre- 
quently met  with  in  like  positions.  These  explorations 
extended  through  many  years,  and  brought  to  light  a 
multitude  of  facts  of  similar  bearing.  Human  and 
brute  remains  were  so  indiscriminately  mingled  in  the 
same  cemented  masses  under  the  floors  of  stalagmite 
that  we  can  but  reasonably  conclude  that  they  were  in- 
troduced into  the  caves  by  the  same  agency  and  at  sub- 
stantially the  same  time.  That  the  different  classes  of 
bones  do  not  widely  vary  in  their  age  is  indicated,  some 
claim,  by  their  bearing  no  marks  about  them  of  having 
been  previously  enveloped  in  any  dissimilar  matrix, 
and  also  by  their  close  resemblance  to  each  other  in 
color  and  chemical  condition.  A  most  striking  corre- 
spondence has  been  traced  between  many  of  the  open- 
ings on  opposite  banks,  rendering  it  highly  probable 
that  the  old  river-channels  of  which  these  caverns  once 
formed  a  part  ran  at  right  angles  to  the  modern  Meuse 
and  its  feeders,  and  have  by  them  been  sundered  one 
by  one,  as  through  the  centuries  the  waters  cut  their 
courses  deeper  in  the  rock.  Similarly  engulfed  rivers 
still  exist.  In  this  very  basin  St.  Hadalin  and  Vestre 
sink  suddenly  from  sight,  to  reappear  a  mile  away, 
while  the  torrent  near  MagnSe  never  again  emerges, 
but  gropes  its  way  down  to  some  sunless  sea.  The 
valley  of  the  Somme,  between  Amiens  and  Abbeville, 
is  a  mile  wide,  and  sinks  nearly  three  hundred  feet  into 
an  extensive  table-land  of  white  chalk.  It  is  covered 
with  a  growth  of  peat  ten  to  thirty  feet  thick.  Under 
the  peat  is  a  thin  layer  of  clay ;  under  the  clay,  gravel ; 


156  VIEWS  ON  VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

under  the  gravel,  chalk.  The  bones  embedded  in  the 
peat  are  all  of  living  species,  and  the  shells  principally 
of  fresh- water  origin.  The  peat  reaches  to  the  coast, 
indeed  passes  under  the  sand  dunes  and  below  the  sea- 
level.  Frequently  the  waves  of  the  English  Channel, 
when  lashed  by  the  storm,  will  throw  up  compact 
masses  of  it,  enclosing  trunks  of  trees,  showing  an  ex- 
tensive sinking  of  the  land  since  the  coming  of  the 
peat.  Ninety  feet,  more  or  less,  above  the  surface  of 
the  Somme  are  gravel  terraces.  As  these  contain  flu- 
viatile  shells  and  abruptly  end  in  isolated  patches,  they 
must  have  been  a  part  of  the  old  river-bed,  and  have 
covered  the  entire  face  of  the  valley  before  it  had  sunk 
to  its  present  level.  These  terraces,  on  examination, 
proved  to  be  repositories  of  hatchets  and  bones  similar 
to  those  in  the  Brixham  and  other  caves,  and  so  placed 
as  to  corroborate  their  report,  putting  to  rest  objections 
urged  to  the  latter,  that  they  were  simply  deserted  dens 
of  wild  beasts,  used  by  savages  as  places  of  refuge  or 
burial,  perhaps  thousands  of  years  after  they  had  been 
abandoned.  These  relics  lay  together  under  twenty  feet 
of  gravel,  in  which  there  was  not  a  single  vertical  rent, 
while  the  overlying  strata  of  sand  and  loam  were  equally 
undisturbed.  Near  the  bottom  of  one  of  the  pits  there 
was  discovered  the  leg  of  a  rhinoceros,  with  every  bone 
in  place.  An  elephant's  tooth  and  a  flint  tool  lay 
within  a  foot  of  each  other,  the  tool  under  the  tooth. 
Tusks  of  hippopotami  were  in  the  same-aged  gravel 
with  knives  and  hatchets.  Remnants  of  mammoth 
and  reindeer  were  also  widely  distributed.  Along  the 
valley  of  the  Seine,  in  the  suburbs  of  Paris,  there  have 
been  like  explorations,  accompanied  with  like  results. 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN?     157 

In  the  Aurignac  grotto,  at  the  base  of  the  Pyrenees, 
there  were  seventeen  human  skeletons,  more  or  less 
complete,  heaped  together  on  a  flooring  of  made  earth, 
associated  with  bones  of  entire  limbs  of  cave-lions,  wild 
boars,  bears,  and  rhinoceri,  together  with  occasional 
works  of  ornament  and  use.  A  slab  of  rock  closed 
the  entrance.  Outside,  immediately  in  front,  spread 
over  a  considerable  area,  were  eight  inches  of  ashes 
and  cinders,  mixed  with  gnawed  bones  of  nineteen  ex- 
tinct and  recent  species  of  mammalia,  fragments  of  heat- 
colored  sandstone,  and  a  large  variety  of  flint  knives, 
hatchets,  and  projectiles.  Many  of  the  bones,  those  of 
the  rhinoceros  among  the  number,  had  been  split  open, 
evidently  by  men  to  secure  their  marrow  for  food. 
There  was  the  bone  of  a  cave-bear  picked  up,  on  which 
the  marks  of  fire  were  of  such  a  character  as  to  indicate 
clearly  that  the  bone  still  possessed  its  animal  matter 
when  thrown  upon  the  coals  on  the  hearth.  Loose 
debris  from  the  mountain  had  completely  hidden  the 
relics.  It  is  conjectured,  and  seemingly  with  reason, 
that  this  place  had  been  chosen  as  a  burial-vault  by 
some  primitive  people  who  were  accustomed  to  inter 
mementos  of  the  chase  with  the  bodies  of  their  dead 
and  to'  conclude  their  obsequies  with  a  feast.  After 
they  had  gone,  hyenas  probably  came  and  gnawed  the 
refuse  bones  scattered  in  the  ashes. 

In  1819,  at  a  place  called  Sodertelge,  a  little  south  of 
Stockholm,  the  frame  of  a  rude  hut  was  found  under 
sixty  feet  of  marine  deposit.  At  the  time  of  its  dis- 
covery it  stood  above  the  sea-level.  A  quantity  of 
charcoal  still  lay  upon  a  ring  of  hearth -stones  on  the 
floor.  Dwarf  varieties  of  brackish-water  shells,  com- 


158  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

mon  to  the  Bothnian  Gulf,  were  interspersed  through 
the  overlying  strata. 

The  delta  of  the  Tiniere,  laid  bare  by  an  extensive 
railroad  cutting,  was  found  to  be  composed  in  part  of 
three  layers  of  vegetable  soil,  the  surface  of  each  of 
which  must,  at  different  periods,  have  constituted  the 
surface  of  the  land.  In  the  first,  five  inches  thick  and 
lying  four  feet  below  the  present  level,  were  found  Ro- 
man relics;  in  the  second,  six  inches  thick  and  ten  feet 
below,  unvarnished  pottery  and  tools  of  bronze ;  in  the 
third,  seven  inches  thick  and  nineteen  feet  below,  rude 
pottery,  charcoal,  and  human  bones.  The  regularity 
of  this  river-accumulation  is  especially  noteworthy, 
evincing  a  uniform  action  of  forces.  The  Danish  shell 
mounds  show  us  that  since  men  fished  in  the  Baltic  the 
sea- water  has  been  so  freshened  by  the  upheaval  of  the 
floor  of  the  ocean  as  to  dwarf  oysters  and  other  mol- 
lusks  to  half  their  former  size. 

Ninety-five  shafts  have  been  sunk  in  the  mud  of  the 
Nile,  from  which  at  all  depths  have  been  taken  out 
works  of  human  skill.  Yet  the  entire  lack  of  strat- 
ification, and  the  prevailing  custom  of  the  inhabitants 
to  surround  their  structures  by  high  embankments 
supported  by  wooden  walls  which  in  time  fall  away 
through  neglect,  have  together  rendered  it  unsafe  to 
base  upon  the  discoveries  there  made  any  theories  of 
human  antiquity.  It  has  been  reported  that  in  Mis- 
sissippi and  California  bones  of  men  have  been  found 
in  company  with  those  of  the  mastodon ;  that  in  New 
Orleans  they  lay  beneath  four  buried  cypress  forests, 
and  in  Florida  were  deeply  embedded  in  reefs  of  coral ; 
yet  these  reports  stand  in  too  great  need  of  scientific 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN?     159 

confirmation  to  entitle  them  to  anything  more  than  a 
passing  notice. 

Hundreds  of  earth-works,  however,  have  been  dis- 
covered lining  the  banks  of  the  Ohio  and  its  tributaries, 
which,  their  size,  shape,  and  contents  tell  us,  were,  some 
of  them,  temples ;  some,  barricades ;  some,  places  of 
sepulchre.  Many  have  been  partially  undermined  by 
rivers  whose  present  channels  lie  a  full  mile  distant. 
None  are  found  on  the  lower  terraces.  The  first  his- 
toric European  settlers  found  these  mounds,  which  when 
built  undoubtedly  occupied  a  cleared  country,  covered 
with  full-grown  forests  of  that  wide  variety  of  trees 
peculiar  to  American  soil,  forests  that  had  been  used  as 
hunting-grounds  from  time  immemorial  by  wild  tribes 
of  Indians,  among  whom  not  a  single  tradition  existed 
of  this  ancient  civilized  people,  who,  in  some  forgotten 
era,  sowed  fields,  worked  in  metals,  held  commercial 
intercourse  with  foreign  nations,  built  walled  cities,  and 
statedly  assembled  in  houses  of  worship.  On  some  of 
these  mounds  trees  have  been  cut  down  whose  trunks 
displayed  eight  hundred  rings  of  annual  growth. 

These  facts,  every  one  of  which  has  received  the  en- 
dorsement of  writers  of  acknowledged  authority  in 
scientific  circles,  comprise  the  leading  geological  data  on 
which  rest  the  more  considerate  theories  of  to-day  re- 
specting the  antiquity  of  our  race.  It  is  true,  there 
exist  wide  differences  of  opinion  on  this  subject,  but 
they  are  principally  the  outgrowths  of  differences  in 
interpretation. 

On  the  question  of  time-relative,  it  hardly  seems 
possible  for  more  than  one  sentiment  to  prevail.  Since 
man  was  first  introduced  upon  the  planet,  radical  changes 


160  VIEWS  ON  VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

have  been  effected  in  the  configuration  of  continents,  the 
system  of  natural  drainage,  the  nature  of  climate,  and 
the  character  of  brute  tribes.  Rivers  that  were  main 
arteries  of  life  to  extensive  districts  have  disappeared 
with  the  herds  of  mammoth  that  browsed  on  their  banks. 
Reindeer  and  musk-buifaloes  have  since  then  been  forced 
out  of  the  temperate  zone  into  higher  latitudes,  while 
the  only  living  near  relations  of  the  lions,  hyenas,  ele- 
phants, and  rhinoceri  that  men  once  hunted  in  European 
forests  have,  as  far  back  as  there  is  any  record,  made 
their  beds  in  the  tangled  jungles  of  the  tropics.  The 
present  site  of  Glasgow,  understrewn  with  the  boats  of 
shipwrecked  fishermen,  has  been  lifted  out  of  the  arms 
of  the  sea.  The  Thames  has  shifted  and  deeply  sunk 
its  channel ;  hippopotami  have  perished  out  of  the  land, 
and  over  their  old  wallowing-places  for  many  a  cen- 
tury have  stood  Westminster  Abbey  and  the  Cathedral 
of  St.  Paul.  The  forces  of  hidden  fires  have  thrown 
up  near  the  harbor  of  Brixham  what  were  once  parts 
of  subterraneous  river-channels,  transforming  them  into 
the  crests  of  isolated  hills.  Powerful  streams  on  the 
continent  have  become  dry,  and  their  old  courses  cut  in 
sunder  by  the  more  modern  Meuse  and  its  tributaries, 
which,  even  in  their  day,  have  worn  their  way  down 
one  and  two  hundred  feet  into  mountain  limestone. 
Since  that  rude  hut  near  Stockholm  sheltered  its  human 
inhabitants  from  storms  and  from  the  rigors  of  winter, 
it  has  been  sunk  and  the  sea  suffered  to  flow  over  it  a 
length  of  time  sufficient  for  sixty  feet  of  sediment  to 
settle  on  its  roof,  and  has  then  again  been  lifted  above 
the  water's  level.  All  these  and  many  other  changes 
equally  marked  have  occurred  within  the  human  period, 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN? 

yet  in  a  past  so  remote  that  even  tradition  is  silent  con- 
cerning them.  Nineteen  centuries  ago,  Denmark  at- 
tracted the  attention  of  Julius  Caesar  by  the  magnifi- 
cence of  her  beech  forests.  In  this  same  source  of 
wealth  she  stands  peerless  to-day.  Through  such  a 
lengthened  lapse  of  time,  neither  the  character  of  her 
trees  nor  their  tropical  luxuriance  has  noticeably  changed, 
yet  we  possess  convincing  proofs  that  oaks  preceded  the 
beeches  and  were  once  as  exclusive  monopolists  of  the 
soil  as  they.  How  long  they  lasted,  or  what  influences 
at  first  introduced  or  what  at  last  banished  them,  are 
matters  about  which  we  may  conjecture  but  can  never 
know.  Still  farther  back  in  the  past  than  even  the 
dynasty  of  the  oaks,  forests  of  firs  rooted  in  the  same 
soil  and  drank  in  the  sunlight  of  perhaps  as  many  cen- 
turies. And  when  we  have  reached  the  pine  woods  we 
have  come  only  upon  the  close  of  the  Stone  Age  in 
Europe,  for  not  a  single  bone  of  those  extinct  species  of 
mammalia,  that  were  the  contemporaries  of  man,  has 
been  found  among  the  buried  trunks  of  this  remote 
vegetation.  These  relics,  in  fact,  carry  us  no  farther 
back  than  the  thirty  feet  of  peat  on  the  valley  of  the 
Somme;  yet,  long  before  that,  and  still  within  the  age 
of  man,  this  river  of  France  had  gathered,  with  its 
current,  a  deposit  of  twenty  feet  of  gravel,  and  after- 
ward had  cut  its  way  down  ninety  feet  into  a  bed  of 
chalk. 

When  we  attempt,  however,  to  solve  the  problem  of 
time-absolute,  we  encounter  seemingly  insuperable  ob- 
stacles on  the  very  threshold  of  the  inquiry.  It  would 
be  exceedingly  hazardous  for  us,  in  constructing  our 
chronological  tables,  to  assume  that  any  one  of  these 

8* 


162  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   qUESTIONS. 

mentioned  changes  has  been  effected  through  some  slow 
and  uniform  method,  or  that  the  different  processes  have 
been  separated  by  long  intervals  of  quiet.  The  inten- 
sity with  which  natural  forces  have  worked  in  the  past 
has  evidently  widely  varied.  Even  if  in  some  locali- 
ties peat  can  be  shown  to  have  been  a  gradual  accumu- 
lation of  decayed  grasses  and  leaves,  there  are  also 
authentic  instances  of  swamp-bogs  suddenly  bursting 
and  inundating  large  tracts  of  land  with  their  black 
contents.  On  our  western  coast,  mud-volcanoes  are 
seen  to-day  in  full  activity.  But  aside  from  all  this, 
not  only  in  different  countries,  but  in  different  ages  in 
the  same  country,  there  may  have  existed  decided  dif- 
ferences, if  not  actual  contrasts,  in  the  humidity  of  the 
atmosphere,  the  length  of  the  growing  season,  and  the 
character  of  plant-life.  Yet  without  these  data,  which 
it  seems  quite  impossible  to  obtain,  our  time-estimates 
can  be  little  better  than  loose  conjectures.  So,  too,  the 
known  period  the  beeches  have  occupied  Danish  soil 
really  furnishes  no  reliable  unit  with  which  to  measure 
the  age  of  the  oak  and  fir  forests  that  preceded  them ; 
for  the  conditions  of  growth  may  have  materially  al- 
tered since  then,  and  eaeh  burial,  for  aught  we  know, 
may  have  been  the  brief  work  of  a  single  hour.  We 
have  the  testimony  of  President  Harrison  that  the  great 
variety  displayed  in  the  trees  growing  above  the  Ohio 
mounds  is  a  sure  sign  of  great  antiquity,  but  as  to  how 
great,  even  he,  with  his  extensive  experience  as  a  back- 
woodsman, thought  it  unwise  to  venture  an  opinion. 

Again,  rivers  have  not  always  been  the  tame  currents 
we  see  them  to-day.  But  should  we  so  judge,  and  on 
their  present  wearing-power  estimate  the  centuries  con- 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN?      163 

sumed  by  them  in  shifting  their  channels  over  such  re- 
markable distances  and  sinking  them,  as  they  have 
done,  hundreds  of  feet  into  solid  rock,  two  or  three 
scores  would  scarce  suffice,  and  they  are  but  late  suc- 
cessors to  those  other  streams,  broken  fragments  of  whose 
abandoned  beds  we  have  seen  to  honeycomb  isolated 
hill-tops  or  to  open  far  up  on  the  faces  of  perpendicu- 
lar cliffs.  The  "boulder  clay/7  geologists  unanimously 
agree,  is  absolutely  free  of  every  relic,  brute  or  human. 
In  no  deposit  under  the  clay  has  the  latter  ever  been 
found,  yet  both  are  abundant  down  to  its  very  surface. 
If  this  fact  has  any  significance,  it  teaches  us  that  the 
glaciers  had  just  left  the  valleys  of  Europe  when  man 
came  upon  the  scene.  Melted  fields  of  ice  must  have 
recently  been  turned  into  turbid  torrents  sweeping  to 
the  sea  with  a  resistless  energy,  for  none  less  powerful 
ever  could  have  left  behind  them  beds  and  deltas  of 
such  character  as  the  explorations  of  science  have 
brought  to  light;  and  a  change  of  climate  radical 
enough  to  unloose  the  frost-fetters  with  which  a  con- 
tinent had  been  bound  through  an  unbroken  winter  of 
centuries  must  necessarily  have  ushered  in  a  scene  to 
which  the  comparative  quiet  and  order  familiar  to  us 
were  entire  strangers.  River-washings  can,  in  conse- 
quence, furnish  no  certain  clue  to  the  mystery  that 
shrouds  the  birthtime  of  our  race.  Professor  Guyot 
claims  that  he  has  ascertained,  from  astronomical  data, 
that  the  last  drift  occurred  nine  or  ten  thousand  years 
ago  ;  but  his  figures  yet  wait  proof. 

Some  have  sought  solution  in  those  vast  changes  of 
level  effected  within  the  human  period,  changes  that 
terminated  the  reign  of  ice,  drove  the  firs  and  the  oaks 


164  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   qUESTIONS. 

from  Denmark,  stunted  the  growth  of  shell-fish  in  the 
Baltic,  converted  ocean-beds  into  eligible  city  sites,  gave 
a  new  water-shed  to  Europe,  and  utterly  exterminated 
many  of  her  animal  species.  But  the  same  difficulties 
still  meet  us,  for  it  would  be  idle  to  affirm  that  the  thin 
crust  formed  over  a  restless  central  sea  of  fire  has  been 
lifted  and  sunk  through  all  past  periods  with  a  motion 
measured  as  the  swinging  beats  of  a  pendulum,  not- 
withstanding we  are  assured  that  the  coasts  of  Scotland 
have,  since  the  Roman  conquest,  risen  twenty-seven 
feet,  with  a  steady  slowness  wellnigh  imperceptible,  or 
that  at  this  very  hour  the  coasts  of  Nova  Scotia  are 
sinking  just  as  gently  into  the  arms  of  the  sea.  Earth- 
quake and  volcano  stand  grim  witnesses  against  the 
soundness  of  any  such  conclusion. 

Some  have  hoped  for  an  answer  in  the  fact  that  since 
the  Stone  Age  an  entire  group  of  quadrupeds  has  be- 
come extinct.  Etchings  on  ivory,  found  in  river-silt, 
of  a  hairy  mammoth,  the  fur-coated  carcasses  of  ele- 
phants and  rhinoceri  washed  out  of  the  frozen  mud  of 
Siberia  within  the  last  hundred  years,  and  the  presence 
of  reindeer  and  musk-buffalo  bones  in  the  caves  of 
Brixham  and  Liege  and  in  the  gravel  terraces  of  the 
Somme,  suggest  that  these  strange  species  were  of  an 
arctic  nature  and  melted  away  with  the  glaciers  and 
icebergs  of  the  drift.  But  further  definiteness  it  is 
folly  to  attempt.  In  New  York  in  1845  a  mastodon's 
skeleton  was  found  possessing  a  remarkably  fresh  ap- 
pearance. Within  it  was  a  quantity  of  half-chewed 
twigs  in  a  state  of  perfect  preservation,  the  animal 
having  evidently  mired  in  the  bog  on  which  he  was 
last  feeding.  Three  feet  of  peat  lay  above  him,  a  work 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN?      165 

of  but  three  or  four  thousand  years  on  the  largest  esti- 
mate. Jefferson,  in  his  "  Notes  on  Virginia,"  informs 
us  that  he  found  traditions  of  the  mastodon  still  exist- 
ing among  North  American  Indians.  When,  in  con- 
nection with  these  facts,  we  bear  in  mind  that  all  of 
these  extinct  species,  whose  bones  are  scattered  through 
the  caves  and  outer  river-drifts  of  Europe,  were  post- 
pliocene  and  comprised  but  about  a  tenth  of  the  entire 
number,  we  feel  that  we  have  here  left  us  a  very  large 
liberty  of  belief.  It  is  possible  that  we  may  be  looking 
into  the  sepulchre  of  a  hundred  centuries;  it  is  also  pos- 
sible that  these  relics  carry  us  no  farther  back  than  fifty. 
Lastly,  if  it  could  be  as  satisfactorily  proved  as  it  is 
confidently  asserted  in  certain  quarters  that  human  im- 
plements were  first  fashioned  from  stone,  that  bronze 
succeeded  the  stone  and  iron  the  bronze,  and  that  each 
advance  in  the  arts  was  taken  at  substantially  the  same 
time  the  world  over,  it  would  then  perhaps  be  within 
the  reach  of  present  geological  knowledge  to  count  at 
least  the  millenniums  that  the  earth  has  been  the  home 
of  the  human  family.  But  even  in  this  day  of  needle- 
guns  and  Henry  rifles  the  Australian  lives  on  game 
killed  with  stone  weapons  strangely  resembling  those 
dug  from  the  gravel-pits  at  Amiens  and  Abbeville; 
and  a  hundred  years  have  scarcely  passed  away  since 
powder  and  ball  usurped  the  place  of  the  Indian's  flint 
hatchet  and  arrow-head.  In  the  early  ages,  as  wide 
contrasts  as  these  may  have  marked  the  condition  of 
people  separated  simply  by  a  lake,  a  wood,  or  a  moun- 
tain-range ;  for  frequent  and  familiar  intercourse  among 
nations,  a  thing  unthought  of  then,  is  the  principal  and 
almost  only  equalizer  in  the  world's  life. 


166  VIEWS   ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

We  turn  to  archaeology.  The  records  of  its  dis- 
coveries are  full  of  the  marvellous.  They  startle  and 
fascinate  like  the  bold  creations  of  Oriental  romance. 
A  rapid  review  of  a  few  of  its  leading  facts  must,  how- 
ever, at  present  suffice. 

A  stranger  travelling  in  the  south  of  England  would 
imagine,  as  he  casts  his  eye  over  Salisbury  Plain,  that 
he  saw  a  flock  of  sheep  quietly  feeding  in  a  distant 
meadow ;  but,  on  nearer  approach,  those  "gray  wethers," 
as  they  have  been  called,  turn  into  monstrous  blocks 
of  stone,  one  hundred  and  forty  in  number,  weighing 
from  twelve  to  seventy  tons,  and  arranged  in  two 
widely-sweeping  circles.  It  is  claimed  that  they  were 
lying  there,  thus  scattered  and  storm-beaten,  nineteen 
centuries  ago,  when  Julius  Caesar  landed  his  legions  on 
the  coast,  as  much  of  a  mystery  then  as  now.  On  some 
of  them,  sharp  angles,  mortises,  and  tenons  can  still  be 
traced.  It  is  generally  conceded  that  these  are  relics  of 
a  vast  temple.  At  Abury  are  still  older  ruins  of  a  far 
more  imposing  edifice.  Indeed,  twenty-eight  acres  are 
believed  to  have  been  covered  by  it  when  in  its  com- 
pleted state.  Diligent  searcli  has  been  made,  and  made 
in  vain,  for  the  lost  quarries  which  those  primeval 
builders  selected  with  a  wisdom  and  worked  with  a 
skill  that  not  only  challenge  our  admiration  but  ex- 
cite our  wonder.  How  those  immense  rocks  were 
blasted  from  their  beds,  dressed  into  shape,  transported 
over  the  country,  and  finally  lifted  into  their  places  on 
the  wall,  baffles  conjecture.  There  are  evidences  that 
the  roof  of  the  temple  was  conical  and  rested  on  cen- 
tral supports,  its  architecture  widely  differing  from 
anything  Greek  or  Roman.  Similar  stone  circles  have 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN?     167 

been  traced  across  the  entire  continent,  even  into  the 
very  heart  of  India.  In  the  secluded  regions  of  Abys- 
sinia this  style  continues  in  use  at  the  present  day.  It 
is  held  that  the  temple  of  Dagon,  at  Gaza,  against 
whose  middle  pillars  blind  Samson  leaned  in  his  last 
feat  of  strength,  over  eleven  hundred  years  before  the 
Christian  era,  was  constructed  mainly  on  the  principle 
of  a  Gothic  chapter-house. 

There  have  also  been  discovered,  in  the  near  neigh- 
borhood of  these  Druidic  circles,  very  mysterious  stone 
sepulchres,  consisting  of  four  rough  slabs,  three  verti- 
cal, the  fourth  horizontal  and  resting  upon  them.  The 
skeletons  within  were  uniformly  in  a  kneeling  posture, 
a  custom  unknown  to  any  of  the  monotheistic  races. 
No  regard  seems  to  have  been  paid  to  the  points  of  the 
compass.  The  graves  of  Jews,  we  know,  are  directed 
toward  Jerusalem,  of  the  Mohammedans  toward  Mecca, 
and  of  the  Christians  toward  the  sunrising.  The 
mounds  of  earth  that  originally  covered  them,  frosts  and 
storms  have  long  since  torn  away.  This  people,  in  so 
securely  and  reverently  burying  their  dead,  have,  in  most 
touching  terms,  told  us  of  their  firm  faith  in  the  other 
life.  These  "  cromlechs"  can  also  be  traced,  as  can  the 
stone  circles,  back  to  the  very  banks  of  the  Euphrates. 

In  the  presence  of  such  facts,  the  question  forces 
itself  upon  us,  Was  the  time,  twenty -three  and  a  half 
centuries,  usually  estimated  to  have  elapsed  between 
the  Flood  and  the  Roman  invasion,  long  enough  for  a 
single  family  to  have  so  multiplied  as  to  have  com- 
pelled the  East,  burdened  with  its  teeming  millions,  to 
drive  out  swarm  after  swarm  until  far-off  Britain 
throbs  with  its  life, — then  this  new  life  to  grow  up  into 


168  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

so  compact  a  people  and  to  develop  such  civilized  social 
wants  and  sources  of  wealth  as  to  turn  Britain's  best 
quarries  of  stone  into  temples  of  worship, — then,  after 
all  that,  to  waste  away  into  such  complete  extinction  in 
a  past  so  remote  that  even  at  Caesar's  coming  not  a 
living  soul,  not  a  vague  tradition  afloat  among  the  bar- 
barous Celts,  not  even  a  single  name,  nothing  but  a  few 
weather-beaten  blocks  of  stone,  is  left  to  tell  the  story 
of  their  stay  ? 

We  have  already  alluded  to  a  race  of  mound-builders 
that  overspread  the  central  portions  of  North  America 
in  some  unknown  era.  They  occupied  the  region  lying 
between  the  Alleghanies,  the  Rocky  Mountains,  the 
Great  Lakes,  and  the  Gulf.  The  ruins  of  their  works 
exist  in  immense  number.  Twelve  thousand  have  been 
counted  in  Ohio  alone.  Some  of  them  form  walls  of 
defence  four  times  as  high  as  a  man,  and  miles  in 
length.  They  are  strengthened  and  rendered  service- 
able by  every  manner  of  military  device.  Others  con- 
stitute extensive  enclosures  of  various  and  most  exact 
geometric  figures,  containing  earth-images  of  birds  and 
beasts  of  prey,  or  vast  truncated  pyramids  designed  for 
purposes  of  sacrifice  or  of  burial.  From  one  of  the 
latter,  near  Newark,  Ohio,  fifteen  hundred  wagon-loads 
of  stones  have  been  taken.  The  styles  of  the  mounds 
vary  in  different  localities.  In  the  region  of  Ohio, 
squares  and  circles  prevail ;  of  Wisconsin,  animal  forms; 
and  of  Tennessee,  parallelograms.  In  the  States  about 
the  Gulf,  terraced  pyramids,  artificial  lakes,  and  im- 
posing avenues  meet  the  eye.  In  Missouri  and  Arkan- 
sas, their  nature  and  position  clearly  indicate  the  aban- 
doned sites  of  towns  and  cities.  These  mounds,  by 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  PACE  BEGIN?     169 

their  great  number,  their  wide  distribution,  their  mag- 
nitude, their  peculiar  character,  and  the  highly-wrought 
relics  of  ornament  and  use  they  have  been  found  to 
contain,  unmistakably  point  to  dense  masses  of  people, 
extensive  agricultural  enterprises,  settled  forms  of  gov- 
ernment, and  a  most  remarkable  advance  in  the  arts 
and  sciences.  As  we  have  previously  stated,  the  fact 
that  forests  are  growing  above  them,  possessing  such  a 
variety  of  trees,  and  trees  of  such  great  age  that  unless 
closely  scrutinized  they  would  be  pronounced  primeval, 
— the  fact,  too,  that  the  skeletons  they  contain  dissolve 
at  once  into  dust  at  the  touch,  while  some  found  in 
Europe,  sepulchred  in  earth  far  less  dry  and  compact, 
have  proved  sound  even  after  a  burial  known  to  have 
exceeded  two  thousand  years, — and  the  further  fact 
that,  without  exception,  they  avoid  the  present  lower 
river-terraces,  and  in  many  instances  have  been  under- 
mined by  streams  whose  beds  now  lie  a  mile  away,  im- 
press us  with  the  belief  that  many  thousands  of  years 
must  have  elapsed  since  this  immense  tidal  wave  of 
human  life  swept  over  the  American  continent.  But 
these  earth-works,  scattered  so  extensively,  constitute 
but  a  small  part  of  the  ruins  found  here  of  former  civ- 
ilizations. Ancient  mining-shafts  have  been  uncovered 
in  the  Lake  Superior  country.  A  half-ton  mass  of 
pure  copper,  disengaged  from  the  rock  by  fire  and 
mounted  on  skids,  has  been  found  under  fifteen  feet  of 
soil  on  which  stands  a  forest  whose  trees  show  the 
growth-marks  of  centuries.  The  pueblos  of  New 
Mexico  and  vicinity,  whose  walls  of  brightly-colored 
pebbles,  sandwiched  between  slabs  of  gray  sandstone, 
appear  from  a  distance  like  brilliant  mosaic,  are  im- 


170  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

mense  three-  and  four-story  structures,  under  some 
single  one  of  whose  extensive  roofs  the  inhabitants  of 
an  entire  village  could  find  convenient  shelter.  In  the 
caves  and  fissures  that  open  far  up  the  faces  of  the 
canons  of  Arizona  and  Colorado  modern  governmental 
surveys  have  also  brought  to  light  ruined  fortresses 
whose  solid  masonry  once  formed  the  bulwarks  of  an 
empire  of  cliff-dwellers  that  flourished  in  some  for- 
gotten era.  These  ruins  occupy  deserted  districts. 
Some  assert  that  their  history  is  wholly  lost;  others, 
that  they  mark  the  site  of  that  Aztlan  of  the  North 
mysteriously  alluded  to  as  an  ancient  fatherland  in  the 
traditions  of  the  Aztecs.  The  more  cautious,  and  un- 
doubtedly more  correct,  maintain  that  they  were  built 
by  the  ancestors  of  those  strange,  half-civilized  Indians 
still  occupying  that  territory.  Whence  or  when  they 
came  none  know. 

Cortez  did  well  to  dismantle  his  ships  and  burn  them 
behind  him  at  the  opening  of  his  famed  campaign,  for 
his  followers  were  soon  to  see  sights  suited  to  cause  the 
bravest  of  them  to  draw  back  with  terror.  He  had 
not  been  long  upon  the  march,  when  suddenly  across 
his  path  rose  up,  six  miles  of  solid  masonry,  twenty  feet 
thick  and  nine  feet  high,  flanked  by  mountains  and 
broken  only  by  a  narrow  gateway  guarded  by  fierce 
Tlascalans.  But  by  valor  and  intrigue  they  passed 
the  wall  and  pushed  their  way  to  the  capital.  The 
glowing  accounts  they  afterward  carried  back  to  Eu- 
rope of  the  civilization  which  their  mad  greed  for  gold 
had  terminated  in  blood,  though  little  credited  at  the 
time,  have  since  been  abundantly  confirmed  by  archaB- 
ologists.  The  fields  were  well  tilled.  The  inhabitants 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN? 

were  clad  in  cloth.  Water  was  carried  in  aqueducts  of 
hewn  stone  that  spanned  chasms  and  wound  about  the 
bases  of  the  hills.  The  Mexican  metropolis,  reached 
only  by  artificial  causeways,  seemed  afloat  in  the  lake, 
upheld  by  some  spell  of  enchantment.  Its  streets  were 
lined  with  canals,  and  the  canals  were  alive  with  barges. 
Pyramidal  god-houses  appeared  with  strange  frequency 
among  its  stone  business-blocks  and  private  residences, 
their  terraced  sides  ornamented  by  skilled  sculptors 
with  hieroglyphics  and  bas-reliefs,  and  their  towering 
summits  crowned  with  altar-fires  that  flared  like  me- 
teors through  the  night  down  its  empty  avenues.  Forty 
thousand  pyramids  are  estimated  to  have  been  standing 
at  this  time  within  the  bounds  of  the  empire,  twelve 
thousand  within  the  precincts  of  the  capital.  Of  these, 
the  one  with  the  most  attractive  surroundings  was  per- 
haps the  Temple  of  Mexitli,  a  structure  of  vast  pro- 
portions, standing  in  a  square  paved  with  polished  stone 
and  enclosed  by  a  wall  covered  with  sculptured  ser- 
pents. About  it  clustered  forty  smaller  temples,  inter- 
spersed with  gardens,  fountains,  ponds,  and  priest- 
houses,  with  room  remaining  for  ten  thousand  people 
to  assemble  inside  the  gates  at  times  of  religious  festi- 
val. That  of  Cholula  is  perhaps  the  largest  still  stand- 
ing. It  boasts  a  much  broader  base  than  any  in  Egypt, 
and  reaches  a  height  of  two  hundred  feet.  Its  crest, 
now  dismantled,  once  supported  an  altar  and  an  idol. 
The  idol,  an  image  of  the  Air,  held  a  shield  elaborately 
engraved,  and  a  sceptre  set  with  diamonds.  It  wore 
upon  its  head  a  plumed  mitre,  and  about  its  neck  and 
from  its  ears  ornaments  of  gold  and  of  tortoise-shell. 
That  of  Papantla,  in  the  vicinity  of  Yera  Cruz,  bears 


172  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

closest  resemblance  to  the  pyramids  of  Egypt.  It  is 
built  of  massive  blocks  laid  in  mortar.  It  has  a  square 
base,  and  as  it  rises  it  presents  an  outline  of  rare  sym- 
metry. A  dense  forest  has  grown  up  about  it  since  it 
was  abandoned,  so  that  its  existence  was  a  secret,  known 
only  to  the  Indians  until  two  centuries  since,  when  some 
hunters  strayed  where  it  was  and  told  the  world  of  it. 
Greatly  as  these  pyramids  astonish  us  and  set  us  ques- 
tioning, the  aqueducts,  the  calendar  stone,  and  the 
bound  volumes  of  "  picture-writing"  equally  excite 
our  wonder.  A  word  on  each.  The  aqueduct  of 
Chapultepec  rested  on  nearly  a  thousand  arches ;  that 
of  Cempoalla  crossed  on  a  bridge  half  a  mile  long  and 
over  one  hundred  feet  high.  The  calendar  stone  was 
cut  from  a  single  block,  weighing  thirty-three  tons  in 
its  finished  state,  and  found  lying  full  thirty  miles 
from  its  native  quarry,  having  been  in  some  unknown 
way  transported  over  a  rough  country  intersected  in 
many  places  by  natural  and  artificial  water-courses. 
On  its  face  were  displayed  in  hieroglyphics  accurate 
measurements  of  time,  the  signs  of  the  zodiac,  the  mo- 
tions of  the  planets,  and  a  true  explanation  of  the 
cause  of  eclipses.  The  bound  manuscripts  were  of 
cotton  cloth,  agave  paper,  or  stag-skins  sewed  into  con- 
tinuous strips,  in  some  instances  seventy  feet  long  and 
from  two  to  three  feet  wide,  folded  together  in  squares 
and  attached  at  their  ends  to  thin  boards  that  served  as 
protecting  covers.  The  three  styles  of  hieroglyphics 
found  on  Egyptian  tombs  and  temples  were  all  em- 
ployed on  their  pages,  the  representative,  the  symbolic, 
and  the  phonetic,  although  the  first,  which  is  the  lowest, 
was  preferred.  The  last  is  but  a  step  removed  from 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN?     173 

the  alphabet.  There  were  great  quantities  of  these 
manuscripts  at  the  time  of  the  Spanish  invasion,  but 
the  conquerors,  in  their  zeal  to  extirpate  supersti- 
tion, seized  and  burnt  them  wherever  found,  mis- 
taking them  for  books  of  magic.  A  few  escaped. 
From  these  and  from  floating  traditions  we  learn  that 
the  Aztecs  were  comparatively  modern  occupants  of 
the  valley,  the  Toltecs,  a  people  of  far  higher  culture 
and  wider  knowledge  of  the  arts,  having  preceded 
them.  Of  these,  a  few  sparse  communities  still  re- 
mained, and  it  was  here  the  Aztecs  acquired  what  they 
knew  of  gardening,  the  smelting  of  metals,  architecture, 
astronomy,  and  picture-writing,  although  proving  but 
indifferent  learners,  as  appears  from  the  fact  that  the 
more  imposing  of  the  public  works  and,  judging  from 
what  were  saved,  the  more  valuable  of  the  public  ar- 
chives found  by  the  Spaniards  were  of  Toltec  origin. 
It  is  still  a  puzzle  with  the  antiquaries  how  so  much 
stone-cutting  was  accomplished  with  bronze  tools,  or 
how  such  ponderous  masses  were  mined  and  moved 
without  gunpowder,  machinery,  or  beasts  of  burden. 
Before  the  Toltecs  came  the  Colhuas,  the  bearded  white 
men  of  tradition.  Their  more  southern  empire  centred 
about  Yucatan.  Humboldt  seemed  inclined  to  the  opin- 
ion that  they  were  originally  from  the  East,  their  ships 
dropping  anchor  in  the  harbors  of  the  New  World,  in 
a  past  antedating  even  the  rise  of  the  Chinese  or  the 
Hindoo  races  of  ancient  Asia.  The  stately  ruins  of 
over  half  a  hundred  of  their  cities  have  been  found  in 
the  heart  of  the  forests.  Their  history  had  already 
passed  into  tradition,  and  wellnigh  passed  out  of  it, 
before  Cortez  landed  his  forces  on  the  Mexican  coast. 


174  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

Walk  down  their  deserted  streets,  and  far  above  you, 
on  either  side,  you  will  see  finely-finished  palaces  and 
temples  resting  upon  the  tops  of  immense  truncated 
pyramids,  their  massive  walls  in  places  still  standing 
ninety  feet  above  their  high  foundations,  their  facades 
stretching  out  two  and  three  hundred  feet,  elaborately 
carved  with  hieroglyphics,  whose  meanings  are  yet 
sealed  secrets.  Climb  the  staircases  that  lead  up  the 
sides  of  the  pyramids,  enter  the  open  door-ways  of  those 
veritable  castles  in  the  air,  and  you  will  find  yourselves 
within  some  of  the  most  unique  art  galleries  in  the 
world.  Here,  rich  mouldings  and  arabesques,  wrought 
into  many  a  quaint  device  with  consummate  skill,  will 
meet  your  eye;  there,  pictures  twenty-five  feet  wide 
and  from  ten  to  fifteen  high,  cut  into  the  polished  faces 
of  the  accurately  fitted  stones,  will  introduce  you  to  the 
battle-fields,  the  gardens,  and  the  domestic  hearths  of 
some  mysterious  Long  Ago.  Through  Copan  and 
neighboring  cities,  you  will  also  encounter  colossal 
monoliths  twenty  and  even  thirty  feet  high,  scattered 
in  great  profusion,  having  long  since  fallen  from  their 
pedestals  in  the  areas,  on  the  stairs,  and  about  the 
open  courts  of  the  palaces. 

Peru  as  the  Spaniards  saw  it  four  centuries  ago,  with 
its  extensive  aqueducts,  its  paved  post-roads  fifteen 
hundred  miles  long,  its  beautiful  hanging  gardens  that 
reached  far  up  the  terraced  slopes  of  the  mountains  to  the 
frost-line,  the  Oriental  magnificence  of  its  royal  palaces 
and  temples  of  worship,  the  pages  of  Prescott  have 
made  familiar  to  every  English  reader.  Pizarro  found 
the  whole  country  firmly  cemented  under  one  of  the 
most  complete  despotisms  known  to  history.  The 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN?      175 

Incas  were  the  reigning  family.  Their  real  origin  they 
studiously  concealed  from  the  people,  proudly  claiming 
to  be  children  of  the  sun,  to  have  come  from  the  South, 
and  to  have  founded  Cuzco  by  direction  of  the  gods, 
made  known  through  the  miraculous  sinking  of  a  golden 
wedge.  Some  authors  assert  that  there  is  evidence  that 
they  accurately  measured  the  solar  year,  knew  how  to 
write,  and  made  paper  from  banana  leaves,  eighteen 
hundred  years  before  the  Christian  era.  Others  place 
the  commencement  of  their  dynasty  at  a  much  later 
date.  Their  consummate  skill  in  the  art  of  embalming 
and  their  scrupulous  care  thus  to  preserve  the  bodies  of 
their  dead,  the  peculiar  inclination  they  uniformly  gave 
the  lintels  of  their  doors,  many  of  the  ceremonies  of  their 
worship  and  the  customs  of  their  social  life,  strongly 
suggest  that  possibly  Egypt  may  have  been  their  school- 
master or  scholar  in  some  of  the  forgotten  centuries. 
At  the  southern  extremity  of  Peru,  on  the  shores  of 
Lake  Titicaca,  there  may  be  seen  to-day  an  artificial 
mound  one  hundred  feet  high,  surrounded  by  gigantic 
angular  pillars;  temples  six  to  twelve  hundred  feet 
long,  fronting  the  east  with  great  exactness ;  vast  por- 
ticos with  pillars  cut  from  single  stones,  covered  with 
carved  symbols;  basaltic  statues  adorned  with  half- 
Egyptian  bas-reliefs ;  and  palaces  built  of  hewn  blocks 
measuring  twenty-one  feet  by  twelve  and  six  feet  in 
thickness.  The  ruins  throughout  are  of  gigantic  propor- 
tions, and  surpass  both  in  grandeur  and  in  finish  any  of 
the  works  of  the  Incas  or  even  the  imposing  structures 
hidden  among  the  forests  of  Yucatan.  All  knowl- 
edge of  the  origin  of  the  city  had  so  completely  perished 
out  of  the  memories  of  the  natives,  and  the  ruins  were 


176  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

held  by  them  in  such  superstitious  reverence  because  of 
their'  extreme  antiquity,  that  the  politic  Incas  saw  it 
both  possible  and  profitable  to  connect  themselves  with 
them  by  what  to  us  is  a  wholly  improbable  myth.  The 
opinion  now  generally  prevails  that  the  city  was  aban- 
doned before  the  first  stone  had  been  laid  in  the  founda- 
tions of  Palenque,  Quiriqua,  Uxmal,  or  Copan. 

From  these  and  other  kindred  facts,  which  we  have 
not  space  to  detail,  it  appears  that  in  some  long-ago  era 
the  entire  Western  world  was  densely  peopled  by  civ- 
ilized races.  The  many  striking  resemblances  which 
the  colossal  ruins  of  their  earth  and  stone  works  bear 
to  those  found  on  the  sands  of  Egypt  and  among  the 
mountains  of  Hindostan  have  led  Humboldt  and  many 
writers  since  seriously  to  question  whether  they  were 
not  all  fashioned  from  a  common  model,  the  American 
builders  carrying  with  them  to  their  new  home  the 
architectural  conceptions  and  standards  of  taste  that  at 
the  time  held  sway  in  the  old.  Against  this  conclusion 
it  has  been  urged  that  the  mounds  on  the  Mississippi, 
the  teocallis  in  Mexico,  and  the  temple-crowned  pyra- 
mids of  Yucatan  merely  mark  a  particular  stage  in 
religious  development ;  that  they  are  each  spontaneous 
products  of  the  human  mind ;  that  nations  wholly 
ignorant  of  each  other's  existence  and  living  in  widely 
different  eras  would,  if  similarly  advanced  in  religious 
life,  resort  to  similar  architectural  expressions  of  their 
ideas  and  aspirations.  Mountains,  it  is  claimed,  have 
ever  been  favorite  places  of  worship ;  and  when  they 
are  not  easy  of  access,  the  inspiration  of  their  presence 
has  become  so  deeply  missed  that  Art  has  promptly 
stepped  in  with  her  imitations.  The  Hindoo  pantheon 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN?     177 

was  on  the  sacred  Mount  Mem,  many  studied  tran- 
scripts of  which  were  scattered  throughout  India  and 
called  its  peaks ;  the  Persian  was  on  Albordj  ;  the 
Greek,  on  Olympus;  the  Scandinavian,  on  Asgard; 
while  Ararat,  Horeb,  Sinai,  Zion,  and  Olivet  are  in- 
timately associated  with  the  Christian's  faith.  This 
objection  has  strength,  and  perhaps  would  prove  fatal 
were  not  the  resemblance  alluded  to  but  one  of  many, 
among  which  may  be  mentioned  that  of  sun-worship, 
with  orphic  and  phallic  accompaniments,  serpent  de- 
vices, hieroglyphics,  extensive  astronomical  knowl- 
edge, the  practice  of  embalming,  styles  of  dress  and  of 
weapons,  the  offering  of  hecatombs  of  human  life  in 
honor  of  distinguished  dead,  the  mode  of  writing  his- 
tory by  ingeniously  knotting  and  braiding  about  a  rope 
as  a  base  threads  of  diverse  dyes,  and  also  sundry  social 
customs  of  the  people.  Humboldt's  surmise  is  further 
sustained  by  some  quite  remarkable  traditions.  In  the 
Panathena3a,  one  of  the  very  oldest  of  the  Greek  festi- 
vals, there-is  celebrated  among  other  things  an  Athenian 
victory  over  the  inhabitants  of  Atlantis,  an  island  in 
the  Atlantic  counted  so  vast  and  so  powerful  as  to  be 
looked  upon  as  the  crowned  queen  of  the  sea.  Solon 
heard  a  mythical  story  concerning  this  same  land  from 
the  Egyptians  while  visiting  them  over  twenty-four 
centuries  ago.  All  connection  with  it  by  them,  and 
indeed  by  the  entire  East,  had,  even  at  that  early  day, 
so  long  since  ceased  that  not  only  had  the  fact  of  its 
former  existence  become  traditional,  but  it  was  thought 
the  waves  were  then  rolling  over  the  place  where  it  had 
once  stood.  Plato,  who  wrote  in  the  fifth  century 
before  Christ,  also  describes  Atlantis,  and  in  doing  so 

9 


178  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

has,  as  De  Bourbourg  tells  us,  recorded  many  peculiar 
features  of  the  country  and  the  government  that  are 
strikingly  analogous  to  those  of  the  empire  of  Xibalba, 
to  whose  stately  ruins  in  Yucatan  we  have  briefly  re- 
ferred. It  can  hardly  be  counted  a  coincidence  that 
Atlantis  is  spoken  of  as  divided  into  ten  kingdoms, 
ruled  by  five  couples  of  twin  brothers,  who  together 
formed  a  national  tribunal  presided  over  by  the  eldest 
two,  and  that  Xibalba  was  in  fact,  as  has  been  found, 
governed  by  ten  kings  who  reigned  in  couples  under 
Hun  Came  and  Vukub  Came,  and  who  at  times  also 
met  in  grand  council.  Both  were  exceedingly  fertile, 
both  rich  in  precious  ores,  both  visited  by  some  wide- 
spread calamity,  both  possessed  in  common  the  name  of 
Atlas. 

The  full  significance  of  these  ancient  American  civ- 
ilizations will  more  clearly  appear  when  seen  in  the 
light  of  other  facts. 

Five  miles  from  Bombay  harbor  two  rock-hills  lift 
their  heads  out  of  the  waves.  The  valley  between 
them  is  heavily  wooded,  with  here  and  there  a  rice-field, 
a  meadow,  and  an  Indian  hut  to  tell  of  human  life. 
Many  years  ago,  when  English  sailors  first  visited  the 
island,  there  was  a  black  stone  statue  of  an  elephant, 
thirteen  feet  long,  standing  on  the  southern  shore,  and 
from  this  circumstance  it  received  the  name  of  Ele- 
phanta,  by  which  it  is  known  to  us  to-day.  Clamber- 
ing half-way  up  the  side  of  one  of  the  hills,  we  stand 
at  the  entrance  of  a  vast  temple  cut  in  the  solid  rock. 
Its  door-way  is  sixty  feet  wide  and  eighteen  high,  sup- 
ported by  two  massive  pillars  and  two  pilasters.  Look- 
ing within,  long  lines  of  columns  stretch  away  into  the 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN?     179 

darkness  before  us.  The  audience-room  on  measure- 
ment proved  to  be  one  hundred  and  twenty-three  feet 
broad,  by  one  hundred  and  thirty  long.  Many  cham- 
bers open  from  its  sides,  their  walls  covered  with  sculp- 
tured mythological  symbols.  At  its  farther  end  is  a 
bust,  each  of  whose  three  well-shaped  heads  is  sixty 
feet  long.  The  hand  of  one  of  the  figures  clasps  the 
deadly  cobra-de-capello.  Various  works  of  the  chisel 
are  scattered  through  the  apartment.  Similar  excava- 
tions are  met  with  on  other  sides  of  the  same  hill.  We 
are  wonder-struck  at  the  magnitude  of  the  enterprise 
and  the  architectural  skill  of  the  builders,  when  we  are 
told  that  the  hill  is  of  clay  porphyry,  so  hard  that  or- 
dinary steel  makes  little  or  no  impression  on  it.  These 
ancient  fanes  are  now  all  deserted.  Who  cut  them  out, 
or  at  what  time  their  congregations  last  broke  up, 
dwellers  on  the  shore  are  as  ignorant  as  we.  The  most 
celebrated  of  these  mysterious  caverns  are,  however,  at 
Ellora,  a  decayed  town  in  Central  India.  Here  some 
twenty-two  of  them  are  cut  into  the  inner  slope  of  a 
horseshoe-shaped  hill.  They  are  ranged  in  a  circuit 
a  mile  and  a  quarter  in  length.  The  largest,  called 
Kailasa,  or  Paradise,  is  thought  to  have  represented 
the  court  of  the  god  Siva.  Inside  its  door  a  covered 
colonnade,  adorned  with  strange  statuary,  conducts  to  a 
chapel  supported  by  two  mammoth  elephants  and  by 
two  obelisks  sixty  feet  high.  Beyond  the  chapel  a 
pagoda  rises  at  the  centre  of  the  room  ninety-five  feet 
from  its  foundations,  guarded  on  every  side  by  the 
couchant  forms  of  the  fierce  beasts  of  prey  that  infest 
the  jungles  of  Hindostan.  Farther  still,  lesser  temples, 
similarly  adorned,  are  scattered  through  the  ample 


180  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

space.  Forty-two  colossal  idols,  each  the  centre  of  a 
group,  stand  within  the  central  building,  forming  the 
Grand  Pantheon  of  India. 

It  is  believed,  and  with  much  reason,  that  these  re- 
markable excavations  were  made  in  an  age  so  remote 
that  since  their  day  the  Sanskrit  language  has  entered 
the  country  and  developed  into  vast  proportions,  sup- 
planted the  old  Dravidic  tongue  in  the  sanctuary,  on 
the  street,  and  at  the  home-circle,  and  finally  has  died 
out  of  the  mouths  of  the  common  people,  to  live  only 
in  the  pages  of  their  literature ;  that  since  then  Brah- 
manism  has  overthrown  Siva- worship,  has  itself  been 
overthrown,  after  centuries  of  caste-cruelties,  by  Bud- 
dhism, a  form  of  religious  protest  that  also  in  its  turn, 
after  reigning  upward  of  a  thousand  years,  has  been 
forced  to  give  way  before  the  so-called  modern  Brah- 
manism,  which,  compounded  of  the  three  religions  that 
preceded  it,  has  for  a  period  quite  as  long  been  the 
ruling  faith  of  over  three  hundred  million  people. 

These  caverns  have  been  used  by  different  sects  at 
different  times,  principally  the  Buddhists,  who  have 
cut  inscriptions  and  reliefs  on  the  walls  and  set  up  their 
own  idols  within  them.  This  circumstance  has  misled 
many  as  to  their  origin  and  age.  We  cannot  enter  now 
into  the  proofs  of  their  extreme  antiquity,  but  there  is 
evidence  on  record  that  immediately  after  the  death  of 
Sakhya-Muni,  one  of  the  founders  of  Buddhism,  the 
one  who  first  gave  it  system  and  state-standing,  his  dis- 
ciples used  them  as  assembling-places,  and  there  com- 
piled the  sacred  writings  of  their  sect,  showing  that 
they  existed  at  the  time  of,  or  prior  to,  the  establish- 
ment of  that  form  of  faith.  There  is  evidence  that 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN? 

they  were  most  numerous  in  India,  far  away  from  the 
banks  of  the  Ganges  where  Buddhism  had  its  rise ; 
that  they  existed  in  districts  where  the  people  were 
black  and  savage  and  Buddhism  was  unknown ;  that, 
with  but  few  exceptions,  they  were  consecrated  to  Siva- 
worship,  the  most  ancient  system  of  religion  in  India, 
from  which  Hindoo  Saivism  was  born ;  and  that  they 
must  have  been  built,  being  works  of  such  stupendous 
magnitude,  before  Buddhism  became  the  state  religion 
of  Magadha  and  monopolized  governmental  resources. 
Lieutenant-Colonel  Sykes,  the  best  authority  on  the 
subject,  says,  "There  is  not  anywhere  a  rock-temple 
excavation  dedicated  to  Brahma  or  Vishnu."  Siva 
was  not  a  Vedic  god,  is  not  mentioned  in  the  Rig- 
Veda,  the  oldest  of  the  Brahmanical  compilations,  and 
belonged  undoubtedly  to  the  ante-Sanskrit  people  of 
the  country.  *  The  Indo-Aryans  simply  incorporated 
him  afterward  into  their  worship  because  they  could 
thereby  strengthen  themselves.  It  was  to  this  Siva 
that  these  wonderful  monuments  of  human  industry 
and  skill  were  originally  dedicated.  Similar  construc- 
tions Rameses  the  Great  of  Egypt  found  in  Nubia 
thirty-three  centuries  ago.  Their  origin  was  a  mystery 
then.  He  covered  their  walls  with  the  records  of  his 
conquests. 

We  see  sun-  and  serpent- worship  in  the  images  of 
Siva  clasping  in  their  hands  the  cobra-de-capello,  in 
the  many  symbols  cut  on  the  walls  of  the  temples,  and 
in  the  Cyclopean  fanes  and  stone  circles  scattered  in 
every  province. 

There  is  not  a  country  in  the  East  that  does  not 
abound  in  ruins  of  kindred  character ;  but  we  must  pass 


182  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

them  by  with  only  a  glance  at  one  or  two  of  the  more 
noticeable  features  of  those  in  Egypt. 

Although  scores  of  authors  have  by  their  detailed 
descriptions  long  since  stripped  these  ruins  of  almost 
every  vestige  of  novelty,  yet  their  colossal  magnitude, 
their  wonderful  displays  of  power,  the  vast  lapse  of 
time  they  cover,  the  bold,  grand  thoughts  and  bound- 
less resources  of  their  builders,  still  gift  them  with  a 
resistless  fascination. 

Who  of  us  in  his  fancies  does  not  frequently  look 
into  the  tranquil  face  of  that  mysterious  Sphinx,  and 
dream  of  those  far-off  times  when  in  that  sand-hidden 
temple,  between  its  spreading  paws,  sacrifices  were 
offered  by  its  many  willing  worshippers  ?  Who  does 
not  climb  the  staircases  of  the  pyramids,  and,  as  his 
eye  falls  on  that  lonely  plain,  whose  empty  desolation 
is  relieved  only  by  a  few  shapeless  heaps  of  stone  that 
mark  the  long-lost  site  of  Memphis,  call  back  the  city's 
brilliant  reign  of  thirty  centuries  before  Alexandria 
plucked  off  its  crown,  and,  in  fulfilment  of  Bible 
prophecy,  left  it  without  inhabitant?  Who  does  not 
go  down  with  his  lighted  torch  into  the  hearts  of  the 
honeycombed  hills,  into  those  wonderful  picture  pal- 
aces cut  in  the  rock,  in  whose  grand  saloons,  enriched 
with  fresco  and  relief,  depicting  scenes  in  the  lives  of 
the  sleepers,  the  embalmed  bodies  of  the  dead  have 
been  so  long  waiting  in  their  sarcophagi  of  alabaster  for 
the  souls  that  went  out  from  them  to  come  again  after 
the  cycles  of  their  transmigration  are  ended?  Who 
does  not  enter  the  open  portal  of  the  temple  of  Karnak, 
revel  in  the  architectural  glories  of  its  porticos  with 
their  shafts  and  roofs  of  stone,  wander  through  the 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN?     183 

avenue  of  brute-  and  human -headed  sphinxes  that  leads 
to  Luxor,  a  mile  and  a  half  away,  pass  by  the  red 
granite  obelisks,  the  gigantic  statues,  the  pyramidal 
towers,  the  sculptured  gateway,  the  lofty  colonnade, 
until  the  southern  limit  of  the  vast  area  is  reached  and 
Art's  vast  thought  realized? 

The  naked  mountain-ranges  that  follow  the  course 
of  the  Nile  furnished  the  ancient  Egyptians,  in  lieu  of 
timber,  exhaustless  quarries  of  granite,  sandstone,  and 
syenite,  in  the  working  of  which  they  very  soon  ac- 
quired a  remarkable  skill, — the  equally  exhaustless 
fertility  of  the  valley  securing  them  at  once  abundant 
leisure  and  a  fabulous  wealth  to  lavish  in  this  direction. 
While  their  architecture  presented  symmetry  wellnigh 
without  fault,  permanency  and  magnitude  were  un- 
doubtedly the  chief  ends  aimed  at.  Their  brains 
brought  forth  Titans,  and  these  they  sought  to  clothe 
in  the  enduring  garments  of  rock.  The  stupendous 
structures  which  they  scattered  through  the  valley  in 
such  profusion  they  literally  covered  with  hieroglyphi- 
cal  records  of  their  religious  and  political  history ;  and, 
firmly  believing  that  their  bodies  would  live  again, 
they  made  palaces  of  their  tombs,  and  adorned  their 
walls  with  scenic  and  written  reminiscences  of  their 
private  life.  The  lines  on  these  strange  record-books 
are  still  distinct,  except  where  they  have  been  defaced 
by  war  or  modern  vandalism,  for  the  hand  of  Time 
rests  lightly  in  regions  that  never  know  rain  or  feel 
frost.  And  now,  ages  after  this  people  are  dead  and 
the  language  of  their  literature  has  passed  from  men's 
memories,  there  occurs  the  romance  of  the  Rosetta  Stone, 
The  secrets  of  the  monuments  are  unsealed.  A  sudden 


184  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

light  flashes  in  among  the  shadows  of  fifty  centuries. 
The  several  princes  of  Egypt  are  found  to  have  been 
united  into  one  monarchy,  under  Menes,  as  far  back  at 
least  as  twenty-seven  hundred  years  before  the  Chris- 
tian era.  Bunsen  places  his  reign  in  the  thirty-seventh, 
and  Lepsius  in  the  thirty-ninth  before,  and  they  are 
the  most  eminent  German  Egyptologists ;  while  native 
and  Greek  authorities  carry  it  still  farther  into  the 
past.  The  more  moderate  figures  of  Mr.  Poole,  of  the 
British  Museum,  are  perhaps  the  safer,  as  he  has  with 
much  painstaking  reconciled  the  different  fragmentary 
and  full  lists  of  dynasties  given  on  the  tablets  found  at 
Thebes  and  Abydos,  with  those  in  the  works  of  Mane- 
tho.  He  has  also  discovered  the  luni-solar  circle  on 
the  ceiling  of  the  Memnonium,  used  in  connection  with 
the  reign  of  the  second  king  of  the  twelfth  dynasty  and 
that  of  the  last  of  the  twenty-sixth,  thus  making  it  pos- 
sible, by  astronomical  calculation,  to  fix  these  reigns 
with  comparative  accuracy  at  the  beginning  of  the 
twentieth  and  of  the  fifth  century  before  Christ.  A 
panegyrical  year,  or  year  of  festivals,  and  other  ancient 
Egyptian  divisions  of  time,  he  has  also  ferreted  out  and 
brought  into  use  in  his  estimates.  He  has  furthermore 
satisfactorily  shown  that  many  of  the  dynasties  were 
contemporaneous,  thus  materially  shortening  the  time. 
But  even  with  his  calculations  we  find  Egypt  a  consoli- 
dated monarchy,  capable  of  building  the  vast  city  of 
Memphis,  founding  Thebes,  and,  with  consummate  en- 
gineering skill,  turning  with  a  dike  the  course  of  the 
Nile,  seven  hundred  years  prior  to  Abraham's  visit. 
And  since  Menes,  three  hundred  years  had  scarcely 
passed  before  the  pyramids  appeared  on  the  plain, 


WHEN  DID  THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN?     185 

placed  and  fashioned  with  such  precision  that  scientific 
computations  can  be  safely  based  on  their  lines  of 
shadow,  and  of  such  massive  and  firm  masonry  that 
they  have  stood  intact  till  now,  and  seem  destined  so  to 
stand  till  the  world  burns.  The  very  oldest  of  the 
temple-tombs  known,  those  of  Beni-Hassan  on  the 
Lower  Nile,  are  models  of  mathematical  exactness,  ar- 
chitectural symmetry,  and  fine  finish.  They  are  evi- 
dently the  work  of  master-artists.  Indeed,  as  far  back 
as  archaeologists  have  been  able  to  penetrate,  they  have 
found  dense  masses  of  people,  organized  labor,  a  settled 
government,  a  profound  knowledge  of  the  mechanic 
and  fine  arts,  an  acquaintance  with  letters,  even  ad- 
vanced notions  of  science.  Beyond  Menes,  clouds  of 
myth  and  fable  have  settled  about  the  centuries.  All 
that  there  is  left  us  of  value  is  a  single  tradition  that 
the  first  emigrants  poured  into  the  Nile  valley  from 
the  east.  Their  nationality  and  the  date  of  their 
coming  are  matters  about  which  men  still  widely  diifer. 
We  are,  however,  safe  in  saying  that  many  hundreds 
of  years  must  have  elapsed  between  this  handful  of  ad- 
venturers and  the  afterward  million-peopled  monarchy 
of  Menes. 

We  had  designed  to  consider  our  theme  from  three 
other  stand-points, — man's  primal  condition,  the  devel- 
opment of  race,  and  the  growth  of  language ;  but  this 
we  must  at  present  defer.  A  word  or  two  in  conclu- 
sion on  some  of  the  new  views  taken  of  Bible  chro- 
nology. 

Although  geological  time-estimates  are,  as  we  have 
remarked,  necessarily  indefinite,  yet  the  impression  is 
daily  gaining  ground  in  scientific  circles  that  the 

9* 


186  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

changes  effected  in  the  earth's  crust  since  man  came 
require  very  many  more  centuries  than  the  sixty  sup- 
posed to  be  given  in  the  Bible  narrative;  while  the 
twenty-three  and  a  half  between  the  Flood  and  Christ 
are,  by  ruins  still  extant  of  past  civilizations,  most  pos- 
itively proved  to  be  by  far  too  few.  Those  of  Egypt, 
for  example,  we  know,  call  for  at  least  thirty,  and 
Egypt  is  supposed  to  be  younger  than  India,  and  both 
but  colonial  offspring  of  some  still  older  people.  The 
extensive  study  given  to  development  of  language  and 
of  race  has  also  profoundly  impressed  scholars  with  the 
necessity  of  a  very  much  longer  period  to  account  ad- 
equately for  phenomena  thus  brought  to  light.  This 
seeming  conflict  between  science  and  revelation  has 
been  variously  explained.  None  of  the  theories  ad- 
vanced are  fully  free  from  fault,  yet  none  are  without 
suggestions  of  value. 

It  is  found  that  the  Septuagint  version  dates  the 
Flood  eight  hundred  years  farther  back  than  the  He- 
brew, the  one  we  use ;  that  its  different  statements  har- 
monize with  themselves,  while  ours  do  not ;  that  it  was 
used  by  Paul  in  his  Epistles,  and  it  may  be  a  transla- 
tion of  a  much  older  manuscript.  But  the  discovery 
of  so  great  an  error  in  one  or  the  other  naturally  leads 
us  to  distrust  the  chronological  accuracy  of  both.  Some 
maintain  that  the  whole  trouble  arises  from  false  inter- 
pretations ;  that  Moses  did  not  design  to  give  family 
genealogies ;  that  names  which  seem  to  be  those  of  in- 
dividuals are  doubtless  in  many  instances  names  of 
tribes;  and  that  from  these  occasional  breaks  in  the 
chain  it  has  become  impossible  to  compute  the  time 
from  Adam  to  Abraham.  In  this  connection,  the  sug- 


WHEN  DID   THE  HUMAN  RACE  BEGIN?     187 

gestion  has  been  thrown  out  that  the  events  have  oc- 
curred in  the  order  recorded,  but,  as  Moses  was  aiming 
solely  at  portraying  God's  providences,  he  selected  only 
typical  men  and  times,  designedly  dropping  out  of  his 
narrative  whatever  was  not  especially  fitted  to  advance 
his  purpose.  And  in  this  same  connection  a  hope  has 
been  expressed  that  the  translation  of  the  Bible  into 
Arabic  may  result  in  unravelling  the  mystery  that  still 
shrouds  Oriental  methods  of  writing  history. 

A  third  theory  is,  that  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis 
refers  in  general  terms  to  the  creation  of  Pre- Adamites, 
and  that  an  indefinite  period  intervenes  between,  that 
and  the  chapter  following.  It  is  thought  that  had  not 
the  world  been  thus  peopled  Cain  would  never  have 
expressed  fear  that  men  would  kill  him  should  he  be 
banished  from  home.  It  is  thought,  too,  that  other- 
wise it  would  have  been  impossible  for  him  to  find 
either  mechanics  to  build  his  cities  or  families  to 
inhabit  them,  or  for  him  to  marry,  except  one  of  his 
own  sisters.  It  is  also  surmised  that  this  interpre- 
tation throws  light  on  that  difficult  passage  in  which 
"  daughters  of  men"  are  spoken  of  as  marrying  the 
"  sons  of  God,"  "  sons  of  God"  being  rendered  "  ser- 
vants of  gods,"  idolaters,  the  Pre- Adamites. 

A  still  further  theory  is,  that  allegory  and  history 
are  so  intimately  interwoven  that  it  is  utterly  useless 
to  attempt  to  separate  them.  Another,  and  the  last  we 
will  mention,  is  that  our  difficulties  come  from  con- 
fused notions  of  interpretation  and  revelation ;  that  so 
long  as  we  hold  to  plenary  inspiration,  this  question  of 
time  will  be  but  one  of  the  many  problems  that  will 
hopelessly  perplex  the  thought  and  try  the  faith  of  be- 


138  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

lievers;  that  Bible  writers  were  all  of  them  divinely 
inspired  men,  but  were  something  more  than  mere  pas- 
sive amanuenses;  that  they  retained  the  free  use  of 
every  faculty,  introducing  into  their  books  their  indi- 
vidual peculiarities  of  literary  style  and  of  mental  tem- 
perament ;  that  revelation  extended  only  to  the  moral 
and  religious  aspects  of  their  themes,  they  being  left  to 
their  own  imperfections,  their  own  limited  human 
learning,  when  matters  of  simple  history  or  science  en- 
tered in.  This  class  of  thinkers  contend  that  the  mo- 
ment we  lose  sight  of  these  two  distinctions  our  footing 
becomes  insecure.  Still,  it  would  be  difficult  for  them 
to  explain  what  some  one  has  called  "  Moses's  inspira- 
tion of  reticence/'  his  complete  avoidance  of  that  spe- 
cies of  extravagance  into  which  every  other  cosmogonist 
has  fatally  fallen.  It  is  certainly  not  a  little  remarka- 
ble that  at  every  new  advance  in  scientific  investigation 
new  meanings  have  been  ingeniously  wrung  out  of  those 
first  chapters,  suited  to  each  new  exigency. 

While  these  many  widely  differing  notions  witness 
to  the  confusion  in  which  this  whole  subject  is  yet  in- 
volved, they  also  show  some  reconciliation  possible  and 
encourage  Christians  to  still  hold  firm  their  confidence 
and  with  patience  wait. 


PAET    SECOND. 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED. 

THE  KEY  TO  SUCCESS. 

SHELLEY. 

THE  BKONTE  SISTERS. 


189 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED. 


I  PROPOSE  to  illustrate  how  God,  after  having  deter- 
mined to  create  man  in  his  own  image,  foreseeing  that 
sin  would  come  and  that  struggle  would  follow  sin,  left 
his  physical,  intellectual,  and  moral  creations  in  the 
form  of  germs,  gifted  with  tendencies  to  growth,  and 
subject  to  such  laws  that  their  unfolding  and  final  per- 
fection should  be  reached  through  this  very  struggle ; 
thus  not  only  thwarting  Satan  in  his  designs,  but  con- 
verting him  into  a  most  important,  though  unwitting, 
instrument  in  the  development  of  both  the  nobility  and 
the  joy  of  mankind. 

When  the  sun's  heat  reaches  the  buried  seed  there 
ensues  a  struggling  of  forces,  the  germ  forcing  moisture 
from  the  soil  against  inertia  and  gravity,  separating 
elements  chemically  knit  together,  grouping  them  into 
new  compositions,  bursting  their  coffin-lids,  and  crowd- 
ing up  their  heads  for  breath.  Every  leaf  is  a  field 
of  conflict,  decomposing  and  assimilating  gases  and 
liquids.  Trees  battle  with  the  winds,  and,  that  they 
may  not  be  worsted,  strike  their  roots  still  deeper  and 
bind  their  sinews  in  stronger  cohesion.  Thus  plants 
struggle  through  every  period  of  their  growth.  When 
they  cease  their  contendings  they  breathe  out  their  lives. 

191 


192  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

In  converting  vegetable  into  animal  tissue  there 
appears  the  same  phenomenon  of  destroying  old  and 
forming  new  chemical  compounds,  that  exists  in  the 
growth  of  flower  and  leaf.  Animal  as  well  as  vege- 
table life  enters  through  infancy  and  weakness,  and 
reaches  maturity  only  through  struggle.  This  fierce 
chemical  conflict  that  ceaselessly  goes  on  while  dead 
matter  is  thus  being  developed  into  plants,  and  plants 
into  muscle,  is  but  preparatory  to  a  fiercer  one,  that  of 
animal  with  animal,  developing  tribal  characteristics 
among  the  brutes.  *  Rarely  is  one  born,  from  mote  to 
mammoth,  but  comes  battle-proof  at  birth  and  gifted 
with  instincts  for  fight.  A  microscope  will  reveal  a 
contest  going  on  among  the  million  occupants  of  a  drop 
of  vinegar.  The  fish  for  defence  have  coats  of  mail ; 
for  attack,  weapons  of  bone.  The  ants  of  Africa  mar- 
shal their  liliputian  forces  with  Napoleonic  skill,  and 
endure  with  fortitude  worthy  of  Greek  antagonists. 
From  chaos  until  now,  between  bill  and  spur,  claw  and 
tearing  tooth,  heel  and  horn,  sting  and  tightening  coil, 
has  this  universal  war  been  waging.  From  now  until 
the  world  burns  it  will  continue  to  wage.  God  armed 
the  warriors,  meant  the  fighting,  planned  the  issue. 

Mind,  like  plant  and  animal,  commences  in  the  germ 
with  no  visible  signs  of  power,  and  its  development  is 
effected  by  giving  it,  to  live  in,  act  through,  and  pre- 
serve, a  strange  compound  of  flesh  and  bone  possessing 
impulses  in  direct  antagonism  to  its  own.  The  mind, 
forced  to  feed  and  clothe  the  body,  is  placed  upon  an 
earth  for  the  most  part  either  hopelessly  deluged  by 
water,  piled  into  mountains,  or  spread  out  into  long 
reaches  of  burning  desert  and  bleak  moor.  Only  a 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  193 

few  small  plats  of  ground  are  capable  of  bearing  fruit 
or  are  fit  for  habitation,  while  even  these  are  governed 
by  laws  of  reproduction  so  hidden  that  only  after  an 
apparent  waste  of  vast  energy  and  material,  patient 
experiment  at  last  discovers  them.  The  metals  are 
distributed  through  swamp  bogs,  mingled  with  the 
shifting  sands  of  rivers,  or  poured  into  the  crevices  of 
metamorphic  rocks.  Storms  beat  pitilessly  about  the 
body,  frosts  bite  it,  sunbeams  scorch  it,  winds  buffet  it. 
Yet  the  mind,  thus  compelled  to  shelter  this  foundling 
of  flesh  intrusted  to  its  keeping,  finds  Nature  tanta- 
lizingly  giving  building-material  in  the  rough,  trees  and 
quarries,  without  furnishing  even  a  saw  or  an  axe  for 
the  hands  of  industry.  Forced  to  move  about  this 
cumbersome  body,  and  soon  tiring  of  its  slow  paces  and 
searching  for  easier  and  swifter  modes  of  travel,  it  sees 
the  wild  horse  without  a  rider;  but  when  it  tries  to 
mount  him,  "Catch  me,"  he  saucily  whinnies,  and 
bounds  away  over  the  prairie.  Dangers  beset  it  on 
every  hand,  deserts  puff  simooms  in  its  face,  waves  toss 
their  mad-caps  over  it,  mountains  belch  flames  at  its 
coming  or  try  to  crush  it  with  the  avalanche.  From 
this  continual  opposition  to  the  mind's  efforts  to  care 
for  that  over  which  it  is  placed  guardian,  the  issue  is, 
it  becomes  an  Aladdin's  lamp,  and  the  elemental  genii, 
the  slaves  of  the  lamp.  It  touches  forests,  and  they 
melt  -j  it  yokes  steam-power  to  machinery,  and  trains  of 
carriages  bear  the  freightage  of  nations  through  tun- 
nelled mountains,  and  monstrous  sea-gulls  of  commerce 
flap  their  wings  around  the  world.  It  looks  through 
telescopic  tubes,  and  banks  of  nebulous  mist  are  re- 
solved into  universes  of  stars.  It  mounts  electric 


194  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

steeds,  and  swifter  than  light  dashes  along  the  tele- 
graphic highways  of  modern  life. 

These  are  but  the  beginnings  of  its  trials  and  triumphs. 
Often  after  it  has  built  its  cities  and  secured  its  com- 
forts it  finds  them  consumed  by  tongues  of  fire,  poi- 
soned with  malaria,  or  crushed  under  the  tread  of 
earthquakes.  But  out  from  this  fiercer  strife  come  in- 
creased intellectual  vigor,  deeper  knowledge  of  natural 
law,  and  wider  views  of  a  ruling  God.  Its  strivings 
with  these  outer  forces  are  still  but  faintest  echoes  of 
those  with  the  inner,  in  which  the  angels  and  devils 
of  human  nature  are  desperately  battling  for  moral 
mastery. 

Through  struggle  material  beauties  find  origin  and 
unfolding.  Sunbeams  by  forcing  their  way  through  a 
semi-transparent  atmosphere  or  drifting  banks  of  mist 
paint  the  golden  glories  of  autumnal  skies,  and  form 
the  twilight  with  its  waking  dreams  and  thronging 
memories.  Rainbows  bend  only  on  the  clouds  of  pass- 
ing storms  and  above  the  plunge  of  Niagaras.  From 
contests  come  those  charmed  eddyings  of  waters  before 
they  leap,  the  windings  of  rivers,  curlings  of  waves, 
billowed  beauties  of  lakes  and  woods,  prairies  and 
drifting  clouds.  Curves  come  always  from  contests 
between  centripetal  and  centrifugal  forces.  By  gravity 
contending  respectively  with  the  force  of  projectiles,  co- 
hesion, and  the  upward  tendencies  of  plants,  fountains 
are  gifted  with  their  graceful  overflow,  dews  globuled, 
and  boughs  of  trees  trailed  in  beauty. 

So  all  the  finer  beauties  in  thought  and  feeling  are 
children  of  struggle.  Thence  came  Hood's  touching 
plea  for  Christian  charity,  "The  Bridge  of  Sighs," 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  195 

Whittier's  "  Maud  Muller"  voicing  the  "  might  have 
been/7  the  tenderness  of  Tennyson's  "  In  Memoriam," 
"  Tlie  Court  Lady/'  that  choice  offering  of  Mrs.  Brown- 
ing's genius  to  English  literature.  It  is  through  watch- 
ings  at  the  sick-bed,  tears  and  prayers  for  the  erring, 
the  fading  of  cherished  hopes,  that  are  developed  life's 
rarest  graces.  Unrivalled  for  loveliness  will  ever  be  the 
smile  of  trust  that  lights  the  face  of  sorrow. 

No  less  truly  has  struggle  been  chosen  for  the  devel- 
opment in  character  of  the  attribute  of  grandeur.  As 
its  chief  source  in  inorganic  matter  is  the  display  of 
power,  seen  in  the  violent  commotions  of  the  elements, 
as  earthquakes,  volcanoes,  conflagrations,  lightnings,  and 
tenfpests,  and  as  among  brutes  the  highest  grandeur  is 
found  in  their  deadly  contests,  where  serpents  strive 
with  eagles,  tigers  with  rhinoceri,  where  lionesses  brave 
dangers,  suffer  fatigue,  or  close  in  death-grapple  in  de- 
fence of  their  young;  so  with  more  marked  emphasis 
human  lives  grow  grand  in  dungeons,  on  racks  and 
beds  of  torture,  at  the  stake  and  amid  thunderings  of 
artillery,  because  there  the  greatest  amount  of  spiritual 
force  is  concentrated  and  is  in  greatest  activity.  Only 
through  the  mighty  martyr  strugglings  of  the  world's 
benefactors  does  the  Creator's  image  become. manifest  in 
his  creatures. 

From  times  of  fable  until  now,  freedom  has  had  her 
votaries.  Neither  arctic  coldness  which  fetters  seas  in 
frost,  nor  the  enervating  influence  of  tropical  heat,  can 
still  the  heart's  throbbings  for  freedom.  This  instinctive 
aspiration  may  be  found  even  among  the  savage  tribes 
of  men.  It  is  the  very  last  of  the  nobler  promptings 
that  dies  out  in  the  soul.  The  Esquimaux'  huts  of  ice 


196  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

and  the  shifting  tents  of  Arabs  are  among  the  strong- 
holds of  liberty.  Pawnees  defend  with  avenging  toma- 
hawks the  hunting-grounds  of  their  people,  and  in  the 
mountains  of  the  Orient  gleam  in  jealous  guard  the 
drawn  scimitars  of  the  worshippers  of  fire.  With  ad- 
vancing civilization  this  love  grows  stronger,  and  its 
manifestations  clothe  with  sublimity  the  records  of 
individual  and  national  life. 

Equally  prevalent  is  the  passion  for  tyranny.  Desire 
for  glory  and  power,  at  first  ennobling,  when  once 
grown  morbid  holds  the  rights  of  others  in  light  es- 
teem. Red-handed  War,  Conflagration  with  his  flaming 
torches,  and  hollow-eyed  Hunger  are  its  ministers.  The 
halls  of  legislation  echo  with  its  sophisms  and  sordid 
appeals.  Thrones  are  filled  with  its  minions.  Its 
poisons  infest  the  avenues  of  trade.  Art  with  her 
hundred  hands  forges  on  her  anvils  the  chains  that 
clank  about  the  necks  of  commoners  and  kings.  The 
holy  offices  of  the  church  itself  it  pollutes  with  the 
proselyting  lust  of  its  mitred  bigots. 

These  are  of  necessity  deadly  antagonistic  passions. 
Their  war-cry  has  sounded  since  the  first  transgression, 
and  under  their  opposing  banners  have  rallied  millions 
in  every  age.  Their  contests  widen  from  individual 
breasts  to  fields  where  battalions  decide  the  destinies 
of  empires.  But  this  fierce  contest,  thus  inseparable 
from  liberty's  life,  is  indispensable  to  its  growth,  gifts 
it  with  immortal  youth,  and  unveils  the  splendor  of 
its  ideal.  It  is  the  struggle  that  follows  sunlight  on 
the  soul,  quickening  into  verdure  the  germs  lying 
latent  within  it. 

Earth   is   sown   thick  with   battle-fields,      Indeed, 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  197 

where  is  the  country  that  has  not  had  its  age  of  heroes, 
days  of  aspiration,  tokens  of  promise,  whose  soil  has 
not  been  made  sacred  by  the  blood  of  its  sons  ?  Golden 
memories  are  woven  with  the  shadows  that  rest  upon 
the  hearth-stones  of  Greece.  Xerxes  by  Malian  treach- 
ery gained  entrance  through  the  pass  of  Thermopylae 
only  to  become  an  unwilling  witness  to  the  sea-fight  at 
Salamis  and  add  lasting  lustre  to  Grecian  fame  by  the 
final  discomfiture  of  his  forces  on  the  plains  of  Platsea. 
Afterward  in  that  defile  a  marble  lion  commemorated 
those  who  loved  liberty  better  than  they  loved  life. 
When  Spanish  hordes  threatened  the  throne  of  the 
Montezumas,  thousands  of  Aztecs  sprang  to  arms  at 
the  sound  of  alarm  in  the  temple  of  their  war-god ;  and 
not  until  the  noble  Guatemozin  was  taken  captive,  and 
his  palace  and  people  lay  together  in  helpless  ruin,  could 
haughty  Castile  claim  place  among  the  dynasties  of  the 
New  World.  The  Netherland  provinces,  drilled  to 
arms  and  taught  self-reliance  by  frequent  battle,  after 
eighty  years  of  victories  and  defeats  brought  to  suc- 
cessful issue  a  revolution  which  for  brilliant  exploit 
and  heroic  constancy  stands  yet  without  a  single  histor- 
ical parallel.  Across  the  Channel  liberty  experienced 
through  centuries  crimsoned  with  blood  the  same  pain- 
ful processes  of  growth,  slowly  transforming  tribes  of 
barbarian  Britons,  and  bands  of  adventurers  from  the 
swarming  hives  of  Northern  Europe,  into  a  nation 
whose  commerce  whitens  every  sea,  and  on  whose  West- 
minster marble  are  chiselled  the  proudest  names  among 
the  world's  gifted  and  good.  Dismembered  Poland 
once  had  her  Kosciusko.  The  lives  of  her  citizens 
grew  grand  in  struggle  and  sacrifice.  Hungary  had 


198  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

her  Kossuth,  and  his  counsel  still  lives  in  the  Magyar's 
memory.  Switzerland,  fearless  and  favored  to-day  in 
the  very  midst  of  jealous  despotisms,  has  a  past  of  almost 
unbroken  conflict,  reaching  far  back  into  the  legendary 
times  of  Tell's  championship  and  victory.  We  Ameri- 
cans fondly  revert  to  the  checkered  experiences  of  our 
own  country's  battle-birth.  We  pronounce  with  pride 
the  names  of  Otis  and  Henry,  who  dauntlessly  threw 
down  the  gauntlet  to  Europe's  mightiest  monarchy,  and 
by  their  eloquent  denunciations  of  royal  writs  kindled 
thronged  assemblies  and  lit  the  fires  of  revolution. 
We  keep  green  the  memory  of  the  matrons  who 
fought  monopolies  with  their  spinning-wheels.  We 
speak  in  glowing  panegyric  of  Washington  and  his 
men,  who  finally  at  Yorktown  secured  the  Common- 
wealth's unchallenged  entrance  into  the  brotherhood 
of  nations. 

In  the  religious  world  we  find  the  same  innate  love 
of  freedom  inspiring  mankind,  the  same  spirit  of  des- 
potism seeking  its  overthrow,  yet  serving  only  the  more 
to  intensify  and  invigorate  it,  developing  in  the  struggle 
wider  mental  range  and  loftier  aspirations.  Against 
theological  despotism  religious  freedom  has  struggled 
into  being,  and  to  lasting  permanence  finally  fought  its 
way.  The  pages  of  European  history  drip  with  the 
blood  of  martyred  multitudes  of  the  world's  best  men. 
But  such  splendor  of  virtue  as  blazed  out  in  the  six- 
teenth century,  rendering  it  forever  memorable,  how 
rich  a  return  for  the  struggle  and  suffering  caused  by 
the  tyranny  that  called  it  forth !  The  ordeal  through 
which  the  nations  were  caused  to  pass,  though  thus  fiery 
and  terrible,  served  to  develop  as  none  other  agency 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  199 

could,  sustained  sublimities  of  purpose  in  the  hearts  of 
many  who  now  walk  in  light. 

Relentless  as  are  these  despotisms  without,  shadowing 
with  their  inhumanities  the  domains  of  political  and 
religious  belief,  a  sterner  one  seeks  to  rule  within,  to 
darken  with  a  deadlier  curse  the  soul's  inner  life. 

God  has  kindly  gifted  man  with  nerves  that  tingle 
at  touch  of  zephyr  and  sunbeam,  thrill  to  harmonies  of 
sound,  cool  flavor  of  fruits,  odorous  incense  of  flowers, 
colorings  and  curves  of  beauty.  He  has  gifted  him 
with  memory,  to  daguerrotype  into  pleasing  permanence 
these  impressions  of  the  senses ;  with  fancy,  to  pattern 
them  into  new  combinations  of  loveliness;  with  powers 
of  discrimination,  to  explore  the  laws  that  underlie  phe- 
nomena ;  and  with  fountains  of  feeling  whose  streams 
nourish  his  germs  of  thought.  He  has  also  gifted  him 
with  moral  attributes  fashioned  after  the  Divine  image, 
and  has  by  the  freedom  of  his  will  made  him  the  arbiter 
of  his  own  destiny. 

The  different  parts  of  man's  nature  are  knit  together 
in  closest  ties,  each  aiding  the  other  in  its  development, 
each  over  the  other  exercising  an  influence  from  which 
there  is  no  escape.  The  intellect  is  forced  into  thought- 
ful cognizance  of  messages  from  the  senses,  forced  to 
carry  the  case  before  the  judgment-seat  of  conscience, 
between  whose  decisions  and  the  pleadings  of  passion 
the  will,  though  free  in  choice,  is  yet  compelled  to 
choose  and  issue  its  decrees  to  the  waiting  muscles  of 
the  flesh.  Only  the  wand  of  a  dreamless  sleep  can 
check  this  interplay  of  forces  once  begun. 

Constituted  for  mutual  helpmeets,  when  healthfully 
confederated  there  is  no  obstacle  so  formidable  as  to 


200  VIEWS  ON    VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

successfully  baffle  them  in  their  purpose,  and  no  height 
of  moral  grandeur  beyond  the  reach  of  their  attainment. 
However,  a  prescribed  sphere  of  influence  and  effort 
has  been  assigned  to  each.  A  disregard  for  established 
laws  by  any  usurping  appetite  or  faculty  threatens  the 
overthrow  of  republican  rule  within,  infringes  upon 
inviolable  rights,  and,  if  continued,  the  whole  nature 
through  the  rapidly  multiplying  power  of  habit  lies 
manacled  by  a  despotism  from  which  there  is  ever  less- 
ening hope  of  rescue. 

Let  republican  rule  be  maintained  among  the  ele- 
ments, and  the  whole  earth  ceaselessly  gladdens  with 
the  blended  smiles  of  spring-time  and  autumn.  But 
when  among  them  the  balance  of  power  is  lost,  when 
either,  ruthlessly  violating  the  laws  of  confederation, 
usurps  the  throne,  what  was  once  an  indispensable  agent 
in  the  processes  of  nature  is  transformed  into  a  frenzied 
Titan.  Our  mountain-ranges,  the  crystallized  waves  of 
a  troubled  sea,  record  tyrannies  of  fire  in  the  seons  of 
the  past.  For  the  thrones  of  their  summits  the  dynas- 
ties of  Frost  and  Flame  stoutly  contend.  For  centu- 
ries will  Enceladus  seem  peacefully  sleeping  in  the 
caverns  of  the  hills,  unmindful  of  his  chains  of  ice  and 
adamant,  until  in  an  unexpected  moment  he  bursts 
every  barrier,  crimsoning  the  sky  with  his  breath  and 
melting  the  snows  of  unnumbered  winters  by  the  kin- 
dled fervor  of  his  passion.  Here  a  Herculaneum  and 
there  a  Pompeii,  with  their  genius-touched  marble  and 
throngs  of  life,  he  smites  in  the  hour  of  his  anger,  and 
only  after  generations  have  flourished  and  fallen  does 
some  traveller  chance  upon  the  forgotten  grave  of  their 
greatness.  The  arctics  down  whose  voiceless  valleys 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  201 

the  torpid  glaciers  creep,  the  parched  deserts  of  the 
tropics,  the  smitings  of  lightning,  destructive  delugings 
of  spring  floods,  the  rush  of  tornadoes  that  uproot 
forests  and  engulf  the  proudest  navies  of  the  seas, 
miasms  that  dry  with  plagues  and  fever  the  fountains 
of  life,  all  betoken  the  overthrow  of  republican  equality 
among  the  elements,  and  testify  to  the  fearful  dangers 
that  beset  the  least  disturbance  of  the  balance  of  power. 

In  the  first  human  organism  these  same  physical 
agencies,  in  perfect  equipoise,  were  mysteriously  linked 
with  spiritual.  There  was  not  a  note  of  discord  or 
throb  of  pain.  Through  arterial  channels  flowed  from 
heart  to  finger-tips  pure  waters  of  the  river  of  life, 
while  along  delicately  branching  lines  of  nerves  harm- 
less lightnings  flashed  telegrams  of  stainless  thought. 

But  the  Creator,  in  order  that  moral  worth  might  be 
developed  in  his  creatures,  was  necessitated  to  expose 
their  innocency  to  the  possibility  of  taint.  They  must 
be  held  amenable  to  fixed  codes  of  law  and  at  the  same 
time  be  endowed  with  perfect  freedom  of  choice. 
Strength  must  come  through  struggle ;  liberty  be  twin- 
born  with  power  to  enchain.  A  Tree  of  Probation 
must  be  planted  in  the  Garden  of  Delights.  Had  Je- 
hovah never  suffered  Satan  to  hold  intercourse  with 
mankind,  or  had  he  by  his  visible  presence  overawed 
alike  the  tempter  and  the  tempted ;  had  he  at  once  and 
forever  torn  away  every  mask  of  deceit  and  unearthed 
evil  from  every  hiding-place,  rendered  impossible  all 
attempts  at  sophistry  by  placing  his  intelligencies  so 
perfectly  en  rapport  with  each  other  that  the  inmost 
recesses  of  the  mind,  emotions  and  motives  in  their 
very  incipiency,  should  lie  exposed  to  every  eye,  sin 

10 


202  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

and  suffering  would  never  have  found  lodgment  in  the 
soul.  But  humanity,  thus  rendered  safe,  would  have 
been  left  hopelessly  ignoble,  occupying  the  low  plane 
of  brute  life  without  prospect  of  progress  or  vestige  of 
royalty.  The  danger  was  imminent,  but  indispensable; 
for  man  never  could  have  become  Godlike  had  it  not 
been  possible  for  him  to  degenerate  into  a  fiend.  The 
permitted  temptation  came,  man  fell,  and  behind  him, 
exiled  and  disconsolate,  commissioned  cherubim  closed 
the  gates  of  his  lost  Eden,  and  the  flaming  sword  of 
Providence  guarded  the  unplucked  fruit  of  the  Tree  of 
Life.  Since  then  galling  manacles  of  guilt  have  fet- 
tered limb  and  thought. 

By  persistent  misuse  of  mental  and  physical  func- 
tions habit  turns  jailer,  thrusting  individuals  into  the 
prisons  of  disease.  There  are  none  but  have  felt  the 
tightening  chains  of  this  tyranny,  but  have  taken  Ma- 
zeppa's  ride  on  Passion's  wild  courser,  painfully  expe- 
riencing the  penalties  of  violating  the  Divine  command. 
Laws  of  inheritance,  social  and  domestic  ties,  the  ever- 
importuning  necessities  of  daily  life,  all  the  multiform 
influences  that  beleaguer  the  soul  from  birth,  perverted 
add  chain  to  chain,  until  at  last  self-induced  personal 
tyrannies  end  in  those  organized  evils  of  Church  and 
State  which  we  have  seen  poisoning  nations  and  per- 
petuating themselves  through  centuries.  As  at  the  be- 
ginning so  now  the  tempter  masks  his  designs,  offering 
larger  gifts  of  freedom,  wider  ranges  of  thought,  fuller 
cups  of  pleasure,  loftier  seats  of  power,  garlanding  his 
chains  with  roses  and  frescoing  his  dungeons  with  end- 
less vistas  of  delight.  Above  every  foot  we  find  fetter- 
marks;  in  every  voice,  sadness;  in  every  life,  sin. 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  203 

Mastery  over  these  inner  usurping  forces,  freedom 
from  prejudices,  inordinate  appetites  and  passions,  dis- 
organizing thoughts  that  corrode  within,  can  never  be 
secured  except  through  the  most  persistent  struggle. 
Yet  this  fierce  battle  with  self,  thus  universal  as  the 
race,  from  which  neither  class  nor  age  is  exempt  rarely 
a  waking  hour,  a  battle  fought  often  at  fearful  odds, 
often  terminating  in  irremediable  disaster,  furnishes 
many  signal  instances  of  the  overthrow  of  evil,  and  the 
enthronement  in  the  soul  of  the  attributes  of  the  true 
and  the  good. 

All  of  men's  mental  and  moral  greatness  we  thus 
find  to  have  a  beginning  far  back  in  undeveloped 
germs,  and  finally  to  reach  perfection  only  by  means 
of  long  processes  of  growth  through  unremittent  strug- 
gle. Equally  true  is  it  that  this  same  struggle  has  also 
been  rendered  absolutely  indispensable  to  the  realiza- 
tion of  all  of  men's  nobler  joys.  The  Delectable  Moun- 
tains are  gained  only  after  a  perilous  and  fatiguing 
pilgrimage  and  a  hand-to-hand  encounter  with  some 
armed  Apollyon.  To  the  illustration  and  proof  of 
this,  the  second  division  of  our  theme,  we  now  direct 
attention. 

First,  man  is  placed  in  the  midst  of  mysteries,  and 
at  the  same  time  gifted  with  an  intense  desire  to  solve 
them.  But  as  soon  as  one  is  made  to  yield  the  thing 
or  thought  in  its  keeping,  the  lively  joy  that  follows 
strangely  proves  as  transient  as  it  is  lively,  and  the  soul 
is  again  left  craving,  perpetual  pleasure  coming  thus 
only  through  perpetual  struggle.  Part  of  the  human 
race  God  walls  in  with  mountains ;  pilgrims  climb  their 
summits,  for  they  must  see  beyond.  He  sends  drift- 


204  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

wood  over  the  ocean,  and  ships  plough  through  peril 
and  pain  to  spy  out  the  hidden  land.  He  hems  in  the 
poles  of  the  earth  with  ice  and  darkness ;  hardy  mari- 
ners cut  their  path  through  the  ice  and  bear  the  blight 
of  the  darkness.  He  hides  Sir  John  Franklin  some- 
where on  the  bleak  coasts  or  in  the  frozen  seas ;  expe- 
dition follows  expedition  to  solve  the  mystery  of  his 
fate.  He  lifts  a  teakettle's  lid  ;  trains  of  thought  thus 
started  are  soon  followed  by  trains  of  cars.  He  drops 
an  apple  on  Newton's  head,  shoots  a  meteor  across  the 
sky,  wheels  the  stars  in  their  orbits ;  Newton  is  filled 
with  earnest  questionings ;  then  come  years  of  struggle ; 
then  "  Principia."  The  subtiler  the  mystery,  the  more 
persistent  and  painstaking  becomes  the  search  for  it. 
Ease,  money,  and  lives  are  freely  given  to  gratify  this 
intense  and  universal  passion  of  mankind. 

Hope  is  a  second  source  of  pleasure  whose  existence 
depends  upon  struggle.  In  the  darkest  hours,  while 
sorrows  are  busiest  in  their  blighting,  there  is  laid  the 
foundation  for  the  most  comforting  and  ennobling  hopes. 
We  are  apt  to  lose  sight  of  the  glories  of  immortality 
when  earthly  schemes  prosper,  for  we  then  find  satis- 
faction in  present  social  excitements,  in  the  bustle  of 
business,  in  the  conscious  possession  of  power.  A  state 
of  perfect  satisfaction  precludes  the  possibility  of  hope 
even  in  matters  of  a  worldly  nature.  Especially  true 
is  it  that  the  soul's  privileged  Pisgah  of  spiritual  pros- 
pect rises  from  the  vale  of  tears.  The  preparatory 
work  of  disappointment  and  sorrow,  intensifying  desire, 
is  imperatively  needed  to  kindle  and  exalt  the  imagina- 
tion. Not  a  worse  calamity  could  befall  us  than  to 
have  our  earthly  ambitions  reach  fruition,  and  have 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  205 

this  prove  the  very  end  we  seek,  for  then  our  mental 
states  would  never  reach  higher  than  the  present  low 
level  of  this  world,  the  other  life  remaining  curtained 
and  uncared  for.  Religious  intolerance  imprisoned  John 
Bunyan,  and  his  mind  at  once  began  to  fill  with  those 
grand  conceptions  of  his  "  Pilgrim's  Progress,"  which 
have  since  then  given  to  multitudes  such  solace  and 
such  spiritual  elevation.  Dante  conceived  and  wrote 
his  "  Paradiso"  while  in  forced  exile  and  in  deep  mourn- 
ing for  the  object  of  his  earthly  love.  His  desires  and 
anticipations  all  lay  beyond  death's  river.  How  fre- 
quently the  Good  Shepherd  carries  away  the  lambs  in 
order  that  the  flock  may  follow  them  into  greener 
pastures !  Frequently,  too,  the  very  clouds  of  time  are 
golden  while  they  float  in  the  sky  of  the  future,  we 
happily  mistaking  their  character  until  the  very  mo- 
ment they  burst  and  deluge  us  with  grief.  The  joy  in 
looking  for  their  coming  far  exceeds  the  pain  at  the 
bursting  of  the  grief.  God  evidently  purposed  in  his 
kindness  that  we  should  ever  people  the  air  with  bright 
phantoms,  and  thus  entice  our  souls  into  a  ceaseless 
singing  of  gladness. 

This  office  of  struggle  is  again  seen  in  our  love  of 
adventure.  It  is  a  strange  phenomenon  of  the  heart 
for  it  to  so  cling  to  life  and  then  find  one  of  its  greatest 
pleasures  in  its  perilling.  It  involves  a  paradox;  but 
note  its  mission.  Man's  highest  virtues  are  developed 
from  germs  by  strugglings  amid  dangers.  There  are 
lurking  everywhere  dangers  of  storms  and  billows,  of 
fires  and  earthquakes,  of  precipices  and  poisonous  airs. 
Dangers  watch  outside  the  door;  their  greedy  eyes 
glare  in  at  the  windows,  their  red  tongues  dart  from 


206  VIEWS  ON  VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

between  the  logs  in  the  fireplace.  God  might  have 
made  us  tremble  from  morning  till  night  for  fear  of 
life  or  limb,  but  that  would  have  thwarted  his  plans 
for  our  development,  for  we  should  only  have  cowered 
in  the  corner  and  died  of  fright.  He  might  have  made 
us  indifferent,  but  this  would  have  resulted  in  equal 
disaster.  We  should  not  only  have  lost  much  of  the 
discipline  of  the  struggle,  but  have  been  robbed  of 
almost  all  its  joy.  There  could  never  have  been  a 
show  of  true  courage,  for  it  comes  only  from  a  con- 
scious perilling  of  what  we  prize.  So  God,  while  he 
made  us  value  life,  caused  the  near  presence  of  danger 
to  be  exhilarating.  At  such  times  we  possess  greater 
intellectual  and  moral  vigor.  This  phenomenon  is  one 
of  the  evidences  of  our  immortality,  for  it  shows  we 
count  many  things  of  greater  value  than  the  present, 
evincing  an  intuitive  desire  to  climb  some  eminence 
where  we  can  get  a  glimpse  and  feel  the  shining  of  the 
other  life.  Earth  is  clasping  us  less  tightly.  We  get 
a  foretaste  of  the  freedom  that  comes  after  the  death- 
pangs  are  over  and  the  body  is  gone. 

Another  illustration  is  found  in  the  desire  of  ex- 
celling. This  is  one  of  our  strongest  passions.  The 
Creator  designed  that  man  should  strive  not  only  with 
the  elements  for  food  and  shelter,  but  also  with  his 
fellow  for  possession  and  power.  He  crowned  him 
monarch  over  the  beasts,  the  fowls,  and  the  fishes,  the 
forces  of  fire  and  water,  simply  by  filling  him  with 
imperative  physical  wants  whose  satisfaction  could  be 
secured  only  by  such  mastery,  firing  him  with  restless 
curiosity  to  search  out  secrets,  with  love  of  adventure 
that  turns  perils  to  pleasures,  and  lastly  with  this  in- 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  207 

tense  passion  for  power.  He  has  made  us  monarchs  of 
men  in  the  same  way  by  sending  us  forth  weak  and 
ignorant,  yet  aflame  with  desires  to  know  and  rule,  thus 
bidding  us  search  before  we  know,  conquer  before  we 
rule.  Those  sitting  crowned  on  thrones  once  cried  in 
cradles,  and  those  that  now  cry  in  cradles  God  invites  to 
sit  crowned  on  thrones.  His  invitation  is  found  in  this 
inborn  passion  for  power.  There  are  other  than  politi- 
cal empires.  Humboldt  held  a  sceptre;  Hugh  Miller 
swayed  a  wider  province  than  Alexander's;  John 
Howard  was  not  without  dominion ;  and  the  sick  one 
that  patiently  waits  the  coming  of  the  death-angel  is 
wrapped  about  in  the  ermine  of  royalty.  The  desire 
to  rule  does  not  necessitate  a  clashing  of  rights  or  true 
interests.  The  consciousness  of  sovereignty  may  be 
gratified  by  all,  but  only  through  that  agency  employed 
to  develop  our  virtues,  the  agency  of  struggle. 

This  principle  again  appears  in  our  love  of  the  per- 
fect. Plants  will  fight  persistently  against  opposing 
gravitation,  send  out  rootlets  to  forage  for  food,  let  no 
leaf  fall  without  supplying  its  place  with  a  bud,  will 
endure  every  manner  of  harsh  treatment,  if  they  can 
but  perfect  the  implanted  ideal.  They  are  never 
tempted  to  relinquish  their  purpose,  never  feel  dis- 
heartened or  tremble  with  fear,  and  so  there  never 
comes  a  single  joy  to  gladden  them  in  the  battle  or 
after  the  battle  is  ended.  Inexorable  fate  drives  them 
to  completion.  To  each  one  of  us  have  been  intrusted 
germinal  ideals,  instinct  with  growing  life.  We  are 
all  created  imperfect  designedly.  Only  by  surmount- 
ing difficulties  are  we  enabled  to  advance  toward  per- 
fection. Unlike  plants,  we  may  become  disheartened, 


208  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

and  so  God  has  given  us  alike  for  incentive  and  reward 
the  love  of  the  perfect.  Instances  might  be  cited  to  an 
indefinite  extent,  illustrating  the  intensity  of  this  desire 
of  the  mind  to  realize  its  implanted  ideals,  and  the 
compensating  joys  that  accompany  and  crown  a  work's 
completion. 

Memory  in  one  characteristic  of  its  power  furnishes 
a  further  and  most  apt  illustration.  It  is  a  marked 
fact  that  there  never  was  a  struggle,  however  painful  in 
the  present,  though  it  wring  out  blood  and  tears,  even 
though  it  end  in  bitter  failure,  but  that,  if  stamped 
with  manly  purpose,  it  served  in  retrospect  greatly  to 
enhance  and  multiply  man's  nobler  joys.  The  world's 
sweetest  memories  are  memories  of  its  sorest  griefs. 
Now,  after  the  pain  and  passion  are  gone,  after  the  fire 
that  flamed  to  purify  has  expired  in  the  ashes,  we  ex- 
perience, at  the  recall  of  the  nations'  colossal  battlings 
for  freedom  that  brighten  the  centuries,  the  most  ex- 
alted joy  at  witnessing  the  development  of  the  sublime 
in  man. 

Pleasure  comes,  too,  from  tears  shed  at  the  graves  of 
genius,  of  friendship,  and  of  the  heart's  dead  hopes. 
The  darkest  passages  of  our  own  former  lives,  if  filled 
with  noble  endeavor,  are  counted  by  us,  when  freed 
from  the  stinging  of  the  sorrow,  among  the  brightest, 
gathering  about  them  far  pleasanter  associations  than 
characterize  the  remembrance  of  those  scenes  which, 
while  passing,  seemed  so  prodigal  of  joy.  If  we  watch 
our  musings,  we  will  find  ourselves  loving  to  linger  at 
the  graves  of  our  once  fond  hopes,  at  the  places  where 
we  struggled  and  suffered  most,  if  for  •  worthy  ends, 
where  our  hot  tears  fell  and  our  sad  hearts  sighed  for 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  209 

rest.  Often  we  pleasantly  recall  the  trials  of  other 
days,  filling  our  talk  with  histories  of  our  sorrows. 
Strong  upon  us  is  the  power  of  their  fascination.  In- 
tense and  subtle  is  the  pleasure  that  thrills  us  looking 
upon  the  scenes  where  the  light  of  memory  rests  upon 
the  moss-grown  ruins  of  what  we  once  held  dear. 
The  sadness  we  feel  at  such  times  is  a  tender  sadness, 
hushing  into  holy  quiet  the  boisterousness  of  mirth. 
Gone, — that  is  the  Mountain  of  Griefs  Transfigura- 
tion. 

Among  all  our  many  sources  of  joy  in  undoubted 
prominence  ranks  that  of  sympathy,  an  influence  that 
knits  together  friends,  endears  home  circles,  incites 
philanthropy,  fires  the  breasts  of  patriots,  and  conse- 
crates the  cross.  To  a  consideration  of  its  nature  and 
of  the  necessity  of  struggle  for  its  birth  and  develop- 
ment we  invite  special  attention. 

Tennyson,  in  his  "Palace  of  Art,"  pictures  with  in- 
imitable fancy  the  utter  dreariness  of  solitude  to  the 
soul,  though  it  be  within  apartments  tapestried  and 
hung  with  canvas  to  suit  every  mood,  paved  in  skilful 
mosaic,  stored  with  sculptured  graces,  crimsoned  with 
colored  light,  filled  with  chimes  of  bells,  looking  in 
upon  open  courts  where  fountains  leap  and  murmur,  or 
out  over  wide  vistas  of  landscape  loveliness.  Under 
the  portals  of  this  palace  for  three  years  there  never 
pass  any  of  the  social  ills  of  life,  its  baffled  hopes  or 
sharp  encounters,  its  burdens  of  care  or  death-sundered 
ties  of  love's  relationships.  But  when  the  fourth  year 
comes,  phantom  shapes  people  the  spirit's  vision.  A 
loathing  and  a  longing  succeed  this  unshared  splendor 
from  which  with  all  her  subtle  reasonings  she  fails  to 

10* 


210  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

flee.  Chill  ness  and  stupor,  the  blank  stare  of  corpses 
and  the  heated  closeness  of  prisons,  settle  with  blight 
and  mildew  upon  her  thought,  while  the  distant  hum 
of  human  voices  adds  to  the  stifling  stillness  of  her 
isolation. 

In  "  Alastor"  the  same  conception  comes  glowing 
from  the  heart  of  Shelley.  A  poet  of  rare  gifts  and 
ripe  culture  vainly  seeks  in  self-centred  seclusion  the 
lasting  satisfaction  which  noble  human  sympathies  alone 
have  power  to  bestow.  His  deeply-seated  social  yearn- 
ings, being  repressed  by  wider  travel  and  more  absorb- 
ing contemplation,  finally  break  out  into  avenging 
furies,  dethroning  those  matchless  powers  to  which  is 
so  persistently  refused  companionship.  Earthlier  na- 
tures escape  insanity,  but  fall  victims  to  stolid  stoicism, 
a  far  more  abject  and  inglorious  fate. 

But  the  heart  to  which  sympathy  is  of  such  vital 
moment,  responding  as  Memnon  to  morn  in  rich  mu- 
sical answer  to  its  sunbeam's  softest  touch,  is  necessitated, 
not  only  by  the  asperities  that  mark  the  world's  life,  but 
by  the  nature  of  its  own  organism,  to  derive  these  its 
social  joys  from  seemingly  social  ills,  social  joys  being 
based  on  social  virtues  which  are  the  names  of  victories 
won  in  many  a  fierce  encounter.  That  sympathy  can 
thus  thrive  only  in  an  atmosphere  of  strife  and  sor- 
row will  clearly  appear  in  an  analysis  of  its  nature, 
while  biography  and  history  everywhere  abound  in  cor- 
roborative proofs.  We  will  consider  it  in  its  separate 
phases. 

When  death's  fingers  freeze  love's  lips  to  marble, 
failures  eclipse,  foes  plot,  or  calumnies  poison  the  air, 
under  any  discouraging  or  saddening  circumstance,  in 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  211 

the  first  bursts  of  grief  the  stricken  heart  craves  soli- 
tude, but  afterward  the  consolations  of  friendship  never 
find  warmer  welcome  or  kindle  nobler  joys.  There  is 
an  undoubted  pleasure  in  the  simple  unburdening  of 
sorrow.  In  the  woe  itself,  of  course,  there  is  none,  but 
there  is  in  its  unburdening.  The  novelist,  cognizant  of 
this  fascination  of  tears,  would  deem  himself  violating 
one  of  the  first  canons  of  his  art  did  he  not  dip  his  pen 
in  pathos.  Should  Eistori  unclasp  her  robe  of  tragedy, 
how  soon  would  the  spell  of  her  enchantment  be  broken  ! 
Powers,  our  great  sculptor,  left  the  ideal  of  his  highest 
inspiration  chained.  Strike  off  the  Greek  Slave's  mar- 
ble fetter,  and  you  darken  the  sunlight  of  her  beauty. 
Hood's  "Bridge  of  Sighs"  and  "Song  of  the  Shirt" 
outlast  the  flash  and  sparkle  of  his  wit.  Whittier's 
"  Maud  Muller"  and  Burns's  "  Highland  Mary"  we 
never  tire  of  nor  ever  forget.  Deepening  interest 
centres  about  exiled  Evangeline's  life-long  search  for 
her  Acadian  lover,  till  silvered  with  age  and  broken 
with  sorrow  she  is  privileged  at  last  at  his  death-bed  to 
exchange  words  of  parting.  Minor  strains  in  music, 
pictured  grief  on  canvas,  irresistibly  win  their  way  to 
the  heart,  eliciting  an  admiration  that  soon  deepens  into 
love.  We  have  witnessed  the  simple  melody  "Pass 
under  the  Rod,"  a  most  touching  epitome-  of  crushed 
hopes,  hush  thronged  parlors  into  felt  quiet,  the  gay 
revellers  gladly  exchanging  their  sunnier  mirth  for 
more  subdued  and  profounder  pleasure.  Both  author 
and  artist  clothe  their  fictitious  personages  with  the  gar- 
ments of  the  world's  real  grief.  They  either  transform 
us  by  the  magic  wand  of  genius  into  our  former  selves 
by  revivifying  the  experiences  of  the  past,  or  else 


212  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

quicken  in  us  a  sympathetic  answer  to  another's  woe. 
Voicing  grief  kindles  joy.  There  is  undoubted  luxury 
in  tears.  The  phenomenon  of  this  attractiveness  of 
gloom  in  literature  and  art  can  be  accounted  for  on  no 
other  hypothesis. 

This  same  law  operates  with  greater  directness  and 
consequently  fuller  force  in  the  free  recital  of  friend  to 
friend  of  trying  incidents  in  personal  history.  The 
more  vividly  outlined  past  adds  pungency  to  feeling, 
arousing  as  by  a  trumpetrcall.  Every  trace  of  stupor 
is  gone.  The  soul  overwhelmed  with  loneliness  and 
dependence  in  its  rudely  shaken  self-trust,  alert,  spirit- 
ualized, intensely  responsive,  adds  to  the  joy  of  lessen- 
ing its  load  a  keen  sense  of  gratitude,  a  comforting 
consciousness  that  the  trial  is  known,  appreciated,  and 
generously  shared  by  a  companion  spirit;  a  bleeding 
hope  revived  by  the  oil  of  consolation,  of  encourage- 
ment, of  openly-avowed  confidence,  of  undimmed  faith 
and  proffers  of  needed  aid.  The  state  in  which  a 
noble  nature  is  left  after  the  tempest  of  sorrow  has 
swept  over  it  is  therefore  beyond  doubt  the  most 
favorable  of  any  to  the  birth  and  growth  of  friendly 
sympathies. 

Furthermore,  acquaintanceships  cast  into  the  crucible 
of  affliction  are  subjected  to  the  most  searching  test ;  the 
dross  of  selfishness  is  burnt  to  cinders ;  the  gold  of  self- 
forgetting  love  is  purified  and  brightened  by  the  pro- 
cess. Confidence  once  thus  firmly  established,  the  cur- 
tain is  drawn  from  before  the  inner  life  of  emotion  and 
motive,  and  guarded  conventionalism  gives  place  to  a 
cordial  intercourse  whose  influence,  extending  beyond 
the  painful  experiences  in  which  it  first  found  origin, 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  213 

goes  on  enriching  thought  and  feeling  through  all  the 
departments  and  periods  of  the  soul's  groAvth.  Corre- 
sponding results  by  additional  agencies  leave  their  im- 
press also  on  him  whose  heart  overflows  in  sympathy 
to  these  urgent  appeals.  To  generously  share  in  and 
thus  lighten  another's  grief,  to  be  admitted  into  confi- 
dence, be  an  invited  witness  to  the  hidden  life  where 
spiritual  forces  are  evolving  elements  of  character  from 
their  contests,  where  what  is  grand  and  Godlike  stands 
in  unveiled  splendor,  to  be  nobly  conscious  of  one's 
own  potent,  transforming  presence  there,  afford  delights 
which  only  they  who  have  felt  them  know.  They  can 
come  through  no  other  channel.  They  are  the  star- 
glories  of  Life's  night.  Even  where  congenial  tastes 
alone  give  birth  to  friendly  feeling,  to  secure  for  it  per- 
manency and  worth  there  must  enter  in  also  the  ingre- 
dient of  nobility  of  motive,  for  unless  the  disclosures 
necessarily  resulting  from  intimate  fellowship  end  in 
well-founded  admiration  familiarity  soon  breeds  con- 
tempt, and  there  can  be  no  other  nobility  than  that 
developed  and  proved  in  battle. 

But  even  admiration  of  this  general  nature  arising 
from  discovering  in  another  amiable  or  heroic  traits, 
though  thus  vital  to  friendship's  very  existence  and 
often  its  cause,  is  in  itself  powerless  to  feed  its  fires. 
The  relation  is  continually  demanding  greater  intimacy, 
more  direct  declarations  in  word  and  life  of  self-sacri- 
ficing regard.  The  more  positively  personal  those  dec- 
larations are,  the  brighter  will  the  fire  burn.  Again, 
this  sympathy  is  in  its  very  nature  aggressive.  The 
heart  cannot  long  contentedly  remain  an  inactive  recip- 
ient. It  craves  constantly  recurring  opportunities  for 


214  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   qUESTIONS. 

earnest  work.  It  knows  no  higher  pleasure  than  to  do, 
to  dare,  to  suffer  for  the  object  of  its  devotion.  Only 
through  suffering  and  sorrow  can  these  coveted  oppor- 
tunities come.  The  thirst  moreover  becomes  insatiate. 
Past  reminiscences  will  not  suffice.  Ennui  ensues  when 
the  heart's  activities  are  dead,  while  the  pleasures  of 
friendship  grow  nobler,  more  satisfying  with  each  in- 
terchange of  kindness  and  relief,  the  relation  more  inti- 
mate, the  attachment  stronger,  the  mutual  revelation 
and  development  of  souls  more  complete.  Friendly 
sympathies  may  also  be  found  closely  interwoven  with 
those  absorbing  passions  of  men,  already  mentioned,  to 
solve  mystery,  indulge  hope,  seek  adventure,  grasp 
power,  realize  the  perfect  and  transfigure  the  past,  in- 
tensifying, directing,  encouraging,  rewarding. 

To  this  sympathy  that  knits  together  friends,  that 
which  endears  home-circles  is  so  closely  allied  that  the 
same  arguments  for  the  necessity  of  struggle  to  its  birth 
and  development  apply  with  equal  force,  while  in  every 
point  of  variance  we  find  additional  proof.  There  is 
between  the  sexes  a  marked  difference  of  endowment. 
Each  is  made  possessor  of  gifts  essential  to  the  other, 
gifts  which  can,  in  fact,  become  the  other's  only  through 
an  intimate  companionship.  The  wife  needs  the  hus- 
band's strength  of  muscle,  the  boldness,  dash,  and  de- 
cision of  his  thought,  while  she  is  peculiarly  fitted  to 
offer  in  exchange  sympathy,  caution,  refinement,  and  un- 
faltering faith.  Man  is  enabled  to  reach  only  by  slow 
processes  of  reasoning  conclusions  arrived  at  by  woman 
in  the  flash  of  her  intuitions.  His  bravery,  defective 
without  her  fortitude,  when  combined  with  it  forms  an 
impregnable  tower  of  defence  against  every  besieging 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  215 

force  of  ill.  Life's  rude  shocks  of  battle  alone  serve  to 
unfold  and  render  useful  these  individual  traits,  to»  dis- 
cover the  indispensable  necessity  of  each  to  the  other, 
and  to  open  the  fountains  of  joy  which  flow  from  their 
generous  interchange.  Cares  and  trials  call  forth  on 
the  one  hand  chivalric  guardianship  and  devotion  ;  on 
the  other,  sacrifice  and  stanch  loyalty.  Each  other's 
worth  shines  out  in  the  acts  of -each  other's  love.  The 
more  herculean  their  tasks,  if  directed  to  the  attainment 
of  a  common  benefit,  the  more  conspicuous  becomes 
their  devotion,  the  closer  their  union,  and  the  more 
permanent  their  delight. 

Parents  in  the  discharge  of  their  trusts,  while  called 
to  pass  through  repeated  privations  of  physical  com- 
forts and  ease,  to  withstand  social  enticements,  to  spend 
anxious  nights  at  the  sick-bed,  often  painfully  to  devise 
and  execute  effective  methods  of  reproof  that  love  may 
blend  with  law  to  win  back  to  right  the  erring  feet  of 
their  darlings,  find  compensation  a  thousandfold  for  it 
all  in  witnessing  the  imperishable  impress  of  their  own 
thought  and  life  in  the  unfolding  traits  of  these  their 
second  selves.  •  He  alone  who  can  measure  the  true 
mother's  joys  as  she  pictures  the  glorious  possibilities 
of  her  children  can  measure  the  worth  of  these  privi- 
leges of  sacrifice  granted  to  her  affection  by  the  seem- 
ingly cruel  necessities  of  the  present  life.  The  hunger 
of  her  heart  can  nowhere  else  find  satisfaction.  It  is 
love's  very  nature  to  forget  self:  sacrifice  is  its  vital  air. 
Had  it  been  from  the  first  impossible  for  her  to  pro- 
mote the  present  comfort  or  fashion  the  future  fortune 
of  her  children,  impossible  for  her  ever  to  dry  their 
tears  with  her  kisses,  or  plead  their  case  before  the 


216  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

Throne,  had  their  character  and  destiny  been  from  birth 
fixed  as  fate  and  fair  as  heaven,  she  might  have  had 
power  to  admire,  but  never  could  have  felt  those 
thrills  of  joy  that  follow  the  acts  that  now  grow  out 
of  her  tender  solicitude,  her  motherly  yearnings  for 
her  offspring,  exposed  as  they  are  to  the  world's  dan- 
gerous gusts  of  sorrow  and  of  sin.  Even  were  it 
possible  for  her  affections  under  such  circumstances 
to  be  born  into  life,  they  would  soon  beat  out  that  life 
against  the  unyielding  bars  of  such  a  prison.  When  her 
children  fail  of  the  fulfilment  of  her  hopes,  she  covers 
them  still  with  the  mantle  of  a  mother's  charity,  still 
dreams  of  some  possible  future  when  the  long-watched- 
for  turn  in  the  battle-tide  of  passion  and  pain  will 
surely  come.  Her  importunate  prayers  at  last  bring 
her  priceless  blessings  of  peace.  Nothing  can  shake 
her  faith  that  Jehovah  will  yet  reward  the  free  out- 
pouring of  her  wealth  of  love, — that  she  will  not  fruit- 
lessly strive  to  lift  the  objects  of  her  devotion  from 
their  low  ambitions  to  those  heights  of  goodness  that 
tower  in  the  millennium  of  her  musings.  Through 
the  hiding  veil  of  destiny,  rent  as  by  inspiration,  she 
seems  to  see  the  fulness  of  the  splendor  that  is  in  wait- 
ing. Should  the  frosts  of  death  blight  her  buds  of 
promise  here,  she  feels  she  will  yet  see  them  opening 
in  fadeless  bloom  in  the  Gardens  of  the  Lord.  How 
blessed  at  such  a  time  the  memories  of  her  sacrifice ! 
They  accompany  her  like  troops  of  angels.  The  air 
about  her  throbs  with  their  song.  With  her,  earth's 
attractions  may  fade  with  the  fading  forms  of  her  dear 
ones,  but  her  favored  feet  are  thereby  guided  to  the  very 
border-land  of  the  other  life.  On  her  lifted  face  al- 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  217 

ready  rests  the  radiance  of  its  rising  day.  Only  because 
the  world's  firesides  have  thus  been  its  battle-grounds, 
and  thereby  revelators  of  its  virtues,  have  they  become 
almoners  of  its  benefactions,  centres  of  its  choicest 
memories,  prototypes  of  its  Better  Land. 

The  sympathy  that  incites  philanthropy  is  cosmopoli- 
tan. It  responds  to  wider  claims  than  those  of  friend- 
ship or  of  family  ties.  It  finds  its  birth  in  any  scene 
of  sorrow,  in  the  presence  of  any  accomplished  or 
attempted  wrong.  Its  blessings  come  from  conscious 
acts  of  kindness,  the  restoration  of  violated  rights,  the 
return  of  sunshine  into  the  hearts  of  the  stricken  and 
the  disconsolate.  Few  who  follow  its  behests  ever  live 
lives  of  ease  or  secure  from  society  a  fit  recognition  as 
its  benefactors.  Stern,  self-denying,  dangerous,  often 
thankless  tasks  are  apportioned  those  who  worthily 
worship  at  its  shrine.  It  summons  them  to  battle- 
fields, to  hospitals  of  wounded  and  sick  soldiers,  even 
to  lazarettos  where  pestilences  riot  in  human  ruin.  The 
fallen,  those  who  glory  in  their  fall,  frequently  become 
ungrateful  objects  of  their  care.  To  reform  the  world's 
abuses  they  must  encounter  its  selfishness,  fortified  by 
capital,  intrenched  behind  perverted  opinion,  sheltered 
under  established  custom,  intimately  allied  with  power- 
ful parties  in  Church  and  State.  Reformers  must  ever 
be  in  advance  of  their  age.  Their  intelligence,  and 
even  the  purity  of  their  motives,  are  often  made  mat- 
ters of  question.  Calumny,  while  it  blackens  their 
fame,  provokingly  checks,  if  not  wholly  thwarts,  their 
enterprises  of  love.  The  desired  progress  is  slow  at 
best,  advancing  perhaps  in  the  face  of  fixed  bayonets,  it 
may  be  amid  the  howlings  of  the  mob  whose  good  it 


218  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

seeks.  Its  votaries  are  sometimes  forced  to  test  their 
fidelity  in  bonds  and  imprisonments,  sometimes  they 
end  their  careers  on  crosses  of  shame. 

John  Howard  was  comparatively  purposeless  until 
his  inhuman  treatment  on  board  of  a  French  privateer 
and  afterward  inside  a  French  dungeon  vividly  im- 
pressed him  with  the  wide  prevalence  of  cruelties  that 
had,  unnoticed,  already  dug  the  graves  of  multitudes 
of  his  countrymen.  And  doubtless  he  would  have 
rested  with  the  righting  simply  of  that  wrong  had  not 
death  subsequently  entered  the  circle  of  his  home  and 
loosened  the  silver  cord  of  life  of  one  most  passionately 
loved,  and  had  not  pain  from  an  incurable  disease 
finally  lifted  his  thought  by  its  purifying  process  above 
every  enticement  of  time.  Not  until  he  had  been  thus 
schooled  was  he  prepared,  without  prospect  of  prefer- 
ment, at  his  own  expense,  upheld  by  no  word  of  encour- 
agement, year  after  year  so  resolutely  to  prosecute  his 
mission  of  mercy,  to  visit  the  prisons  of  Britain  and  the 
Continent,  to  submit  to  many  tedious  weeks  of  confine- 
ment in  the  loathsome  rooms  of  a  Venetian  lazar-house, 
breathing  noisome  and  pestilential  airs,  going  where 
contagions  lurked,  where  the  bravest  physicians  durst 
not  enter,  forcing  himself  daily  into  the  presence  of  the 
most  appalling  miseries  and  sins,  that  he  might  publish 
them  to  the  world  and  thereby,  if  possible,  effect  their 
cure.  His  enterprises  for  the  rescue  of  society's  out- 
casts and  the  cleansing  of  its  places  of  plague,  carried 
forward  by  such  indefatigable  industry  amid  privations 
and  perils,  always  met  the  scorn  of  the  indifferent,  the 
weak,  contemptible  pity  of  those  at  ease  in  Zion.  He 
died  near  the  Crimea  of  an  infectious  fever  contracted  in 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  219 

the  very  act  of  philanthropic  love.  We  cannot  over- 
estimate his  sacrifice.  Wealth,  comfort,  time,  safety, 
life  itself,  were  John  Howard's  princely  gifts  to  the 
criminal,  the  unfortunate,  the  forgotten. 

After  Dr.  Jenner  had  spent  twenty  years  of  patient 
thought  and  experiment  in  proving  and  perfecting  his 
discovery  of  the  disinfections  properties  of  vaccine, 
and  had  issued  a  carefully  written  treatise,  in  which  he 
detailed  twenty-three  cases  of  successful  vaccination, 
he  visited  London  to  instruct  physicians  in  the  process, 
but  only  met  first  cold  contumely,  afterward  open  and 
relentless  warfare.  He  was  caricatured,  accused  of 
malpractice,  of  "  bestial i zing"  his  victims,  of  intro- 
ducing the  diseases  of  cattle  among  his  kind.  Some 
of  his  patients  were  pelted  with  stones  in  the  streets. 
Pulpits  hurled  at  him  their  anathemas.  The  whole 
medical  profession,  incited  by  pride  and  envy,  fostered 
the  prejudices  of  the  populace,  until,  overborne  by  his 
success,  they  were  forced  to  yield.  Then,  adding  in- 
sult to  injury,  many  of  them  sought,  by  presenting 
fraudulent  claims  to  discovery,  basely  to  rob  him  of  his 
laurels.  The  doctor  became  an  old  man  before  he  was 
awarded  recognition  as  a  benefactor,  though  vaccine 
was  of  such  intrinsic  worth  to  the  race  that  to  discover 
it,  as  Cuvier  has  since  remarked,  would  alone  have 
rendered  illustrious  any  era.  Dr.  Harvey  was  the 
same  patient  worker,  and  his  theory  of  the  circulation 
of  the  blood  met  with  the  same  inveterate  hate.  He 
was  ridiculed  as  a  crack-brained  impostor,  even  charged 
with  designs  to  undermine  religion  and  public  morals. 
For  years  he  was  without  a  convert  or  a  patient  of 
any  sort,  almost  without  a  friend.  A  quarter  of  a  cen- 


220  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

tury  passed  before  what  is  to  us  one  of  the  plainest  of 
scientific  truths  gained  credence,  and  wrought  that  rev- 
olution in  medicine  and  surgery  whose  streams  of  benefi- 
cence water  the  world  to-day.  Sir  Charles  Bell  spent 
forty  years  studying  the  nature  and  functions  of  the 
nerves,  only  to  meet  the  same  rebuffs,  incredulity,  and 
ingratitude. 

Granville  Sharp,  a  humble  ordnance  clerk,  by  a  life 
of  unremittent  mental  industry  and  generous  self-sacri- 
fice, set  rolling  waves  of  influence  that  swept  the  seas 
of  every  English  slaver  and  eventually  broke  the 
shackles  of  every  English  slave.  Possessed  of  an  im- 
perfect education,  and  absolutely  without  knowledge 
of  law,  he  bravely  began  that  celebrated  defence  of 
Jonathan  Strong  single-handed  against  the  settled  con- 
victions of  the  entire  English  bar.  By  indefatigable 
research  through  mountains  of  dry  documents,  decis- 
ions of  courts,  and  acts  of  parliament,  he  succeeded  in 
summoning  an  array  of  facts  that  overthrew  every 
antagonist.  Case  after  case  he  carried  through  with 
the  same  persistency,  until  Chief- Justice  Mansfield  was 
absolutely  forced  by  the  irrefragable  logic  of  this  tire- 
less advocate  to  declare  that  whoever  set  foot  on  British 
soil  was  thenceforth  forever  free.  Though  the  meagre 
salary  of  his  clerkship  barely  sufficed  to  keep  him 
from  debt,  still  every  leisure  moment  through  his  en- 
tire life  he  scrupulously  used  to  secure  the  rights  of  the 
negro,  studying  while  others  slept,  and  that  without 
support  from  sympathy  or  hope  of  reward.  Of  course, 
such  zeal  proved  a  destroying  firebrand  in  the  camp  of 
the  enemy.  Quickened  by  his  example  into  the  same 
sublime  purpose,  Clarkson,  Wilberforce,  Brougham, 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  221 

and  Buxton,  after  prodigies  of  labor,  finished  the  work 
which  he  had  with  unconquerable  courage  carried  for- 
ward without  means,  without  a  helping  hand,  against 
the  adverse  criticisms  and  declared  wishes  of  an  entire 
kingdom. 

Anti-slavery  agitators  in  our  own  times  and  country 
have  not  only  been  forced  to  encounter  indifference  and 
the  curled  lip  of  scorn,  but  to  endure  privations,  to  feel 
the  relentless  grasp  of  the  law,  often  to  perish  at  their 
posts,  stricken  down  by  the  hands  of  ignorance  and 
hate.  The  same  incarnate  evil  that  murdered  a  Love- 
joy  and  dragged  a  Garrison  through  the  streets  of  Bos- 
ton, when  finally  threatened  with  overthrow  by  the 
irrepressible  advocates  of  reform,  desperately  clutched 
at  the  throat  of  the  nation  and  refused  to  let  go  its 
grasp  until  driven  back  by  thrusts  of  bayonets  and 
storms  of  canister. 

The  sympathy  that  incites  philanthropy  we  thus  see 
calls  not  to  diverting  pastimes,  but  to  the  endurance  of 
incessant  toil,  to  the  discharge  of  the  sternest  duties  in 
the  face  of  obloquy,  of  danger,  sometimes  of  death; 
for  while  the  serpents  of  selfishness  bruise  the  heels 
that  crush  them,  how  frequently  those  snatched  from 
them  stone  their  deliverers  and  leave  their  children  to 
garnish  their  tombs.  Only  one  of  the  ten  lepers  ever 
turned  back  to  thank  Christ  for  healing.  Are  then  the 
lives  of  earnest  philanthropists  barren  of  joy  ?  Is  such 
love  left  without  requital  ?  Rather,  we  might  ask,  does 
not  a  single  moment  of  conscious  likeness  to  Christ  yield 
profounder  pleasure  than  a  life  of  the  empty  worship 
and  Avealth  of  the  world  ?  And  whence  can  such  con- 
sciousness come  except  through  just  such  tests  of  love's 


222  VIEWS   ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

loyalty  ?  Strip  a  man  of  every  worldly  incentive,  let 
him  seek  to  benefit  his  age,  not  from  selfish  interest,  not 
because  of  any  possible  prospect  of  pecuniary  return 
or  of  social  advancement,  but  from  some  deeply-seated 
sympathy  for  suffering,  some  intense  desire  to  place  upon 
the  plane  of  virtue  any  victim  of  vice,  and  his  soul's 
freed  pinions  lift  him  into  the  very  sunlight  of  heaven. 
When  misinterpreted  and  maligned  by  reason  of  the 
bigotry  and  conservatism  of  the  ignorance  he  seeks  to 
instruct  and  the  fierce  hate  felt  by  the  tyrannies  he 
seeks  to  destroy,  when  thus  rudely  driven  back  from 
the  world's  broken  cisterns  of  pleasure,  then  out  of  the 
flooding  fulness  of  his  enthusiasm  to  render  real  his 
conceptions  of  reform  there  well  living  fountains  of 
sweet  water. 

In  the  sympathy  that  fires  the  breasts  of  patriots,  we 
find  struggle  and  suffering  equally  indispensable  in  the 
creation  of  human  joy.  Not  only  are  tyrannies  armed 
facts  necessarily  to  be  met  and  mastered  before  mankind 
can  be  free,  but  unconsciously  most  powerful  agents  in 
enhancing  the  value  of  the  very  rights  they  fight  like 
fiends  to  destroy,  enriching  freedom  through  the  disci- 
pline of  the  conflict  with  those  imperishable  associations 
that  give  it  worth  commensurate  with  the  sacrifice. 
Freedom  is  a  word  of  relative  meaning,  taking  rank 
with  the  interests  it  conserves  and  the  capacities  for 
enjoyment  of  those  over  whom  its  influences  operate. 
The  freedom  of  the  bird,  though  perfect  of  its  kind, 
ranks  as  far  below  the  angel's  as  the  angel's  thought 
and  feeling  transcend  the  bird's.  If  man  rises  in  the 
scale  of  sentient  intelligences  through  the  developing 
power  of  struggle  when  that  struggle  results  from  his 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  223 

heroic  loyalty  to  any  of  his  nobler  impulses,  the  con- 
clusion follows  by  irresistible  logic  that  the  joy-giving 
power  of  freedom  is  measured  by  the  sacrifices  and 
struggles  of  its  votaries.  Intimately  associated  with 
this  conclusion,  indeed  inseparable  from  it,  is  a  second, 
the  immediateness  and  absolute  surety  of  the  reward. 
The  moment  an  individual  boldly  asserts  his  freedom 
and  courageously  purposes  to  maintain  it,  that  moment 
he  is  free,  and  so  long  as  that  high  resolve  is  in  the  as- 
cendant, directing  and  unfolding  his  powers,  though  it 
lead  through  inquisitorial  fire  or  the  carnage  of  battle, 
it  kindles  enthusiasm  and  lifts  into  ecstasy  by  the  in- 
tensified consciousness  of  newly  developed  and  nobly 
consecrated  worth.  Under  such  influences  man  seems 
to  be  treading  upon  the  confines  of  the  other  life,  to  feel 
the  bracings  of  its  inspiration  and  to  catch  glimpses 
of  its  glory.  There  is  also  generally,  if  not  universally, 
blended  with  this  passion  for  personal  freedom  a  warm 
attachment  for  the  fatherland,  as  under  its  protecting 
shadow  cluster  the  many  endeared  relations  of  our  social 
life,  and  with  its  honor  and  safety  are  intimately  in- 
volved our  own.  Therefore,  those  political  conflicts 
that  serve  at  once  to  call  out  and  to  gratify  this  double 
attachment  become  sources  of  double  joy. 

Meagre  as  was  the  freedom  under  the  reign  of  the 
Montezumas,  yet  rather  than  have  that  snatched  from 
them  by  Spanish  hordes,  a  brave  people  gave  to  history 
the  scenes  of  that  memorable  night  when  the  waters  that 
shut  in  the  Island  City  grew  crimson,  and  dead  and 
dying  were  heaped  along  causeways  drenched  in  blood. 
To  fiercer  ordeal  Cortez  afterward  brought  Aztec 
bravery,  but  to  no  purpose.  One  by  one  fell  the 


22 i  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

proud  and  costly  fabrics  of  their  capital.  Famine  and 
disease  became  rivals  of  fire  and  sword  to  conquer  their 
indomitable  purpose,  still  they  sublimely  refused  to  ask 
for  quarter.  There  must  have  been  a  wonderfully  com- 
pensating joy  following  the  promptings  of  this  love  for 
liberty  and  country,  unknown  to  life's  more  even  tenor, 
to  have  sustained  the  enthusiasm  of  the  Mexican  and 
to  have  nerved  him  to  such  unflinching  fortitude  amid 
cruelties  that  still  live  in  memory  a  marvel  and  a  shame. 
There  must  have  been  thrills  of  ecstasy  following  that 
vigorous  quickening  of  mind  and  that  noble  mastery  of 
immortality  over  the  pleading  anguish  of  the  flesh.  If 
a  people  semi-civilized  and  idolatrous  could  have  found 
in  these  smugglings  pleasures  commensurate  with  the 
pain,  what  may  not  be  predicated  of  battlings  for  en- 
lightened freedom  with  wider  vision  and  a  Christ-born 
promise,  whose  tender  budding  escapes  the  plucking 
fingers  of  failure  ? 

William  the  Silent  seemed  peculiarly  fitted  for  a  life 
of  elegant  and  luxurious  ease.  A  gifted  conversation- 
alist, high-born  and  wealthy,  familiar  with  the  teach- 
ings of  the  schools  and  the  refinements  of  courts,  he 
had  thrown  open  the  parlors  of  his  Nassau  palace  in 
genial  hospitality,  and  at  his  loaded  tables  given  daily 
welcome  to  the  titled  and  the  learned  of  Europe.  But 
liberty's  impending  ruin  touched  the  grander  impulses 
of  his  nature,  awakened  longings  that  neither  society's 
elegant  repose  nor  the  fascinating  excitements  of  the  feast, 
neither  sculpture,  nor  song,  nor  literature's  lettered  ease, 
had  power  to  quiet  with  their  enchantments.  After- 
ward, when  he  saw  the  foreign  mercenaries'  cruelties 
and  license,  the  intruding  espionage  of  the  Inquisition, 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  225 

the  States-General  ignored,  the  professed  concessions  of 
the '"Joyful  Entrance"  a  mockery  and  a  cheat,  he 
promptly  exchanged  the  most  enticing  political  pros- 
pects of  any  Netherland  grandee  for  the  nobler  con- 
sciousness of  worth  that  recompenses  the  dangerous 
duties  of  the  patriot-hero.  Nothing  could  daunt  his 
courage  or  dampen  his  ardor.  Though  the  delusive 
lull  of  tyranny  that  followed  Granvelle's  recall  was 
soon  succeeded  by  the  blood-council  of  Alva,  though  he 
saw  himself  deserted,  his  offices  given  to  another,  his 
estates  confiscated,  his  coat  of  arms  dishonored,  his  son 
held  prisoner,  himself  an  exile,  the  last  of  his  plate, 
his  furniture,  and  his  credit  turned  into  soldiers  to  end 
only  in  fruitless  forays  and  the  stricken  field  of  Jem- 
rningen,  yet  with  an  unfaltering  faith  devoutly  waiting 
God's  providence  he  steadfastly  watched  the  heavens 
for  the  gray  dawn  of  liberty,  until  at  last  the  glad 
tidings  came  that  the  "  Sea-Beggars,"  driven  from 
English  shores,  had  captured  Brill  and  on  its  walls 
gallantly  unfurled  the  trampled  banner  of  the  Re- 
public And  when  a  few  brilliant  victories  again 
ended  in  defeat,  sublimely  purposing  to  perish  rather 
than  surrender,  he  uttered  that  memorable  saying,  "  I 
go  to  Holland  to  make  my  sepulchre."  The  subse- 
quent brave  defence  of  Haarlem  and  Leyden  was 
followed  by  new  disasters  threatening  the  life  of  the 
Commonwealth,  but  this  only  so  intensified  the  love 
for  freedom  that  it  culminated  in  the  lofty  ardor  of 
that  grand  design  of  prince  and  people  to  give  their 
fatherland  with  all  its  hallowed  memories  back  to 
ocean,  and,  with  their  wives  and  little  ones  gathered 
on  board  the  remnants  of  their  once  proud  fleets,  set 

11 


226  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

sail  for  friendlier  skies  and  a-  brighter  destiny.  %But 
God  smote  Requesens  with  fever,  and  the  tide  turned. 

There  is  but  one  other  phase  of  sympathy  to  which 
I  wish  to  direct  attention.  It  is  that  which  consecrates 
the  cross.  The  gospel  story  is  so  familiar  that  a  simple 
allusion  to  a  few  of  its  leading  facts  will  doubtless 
suffice. 

Through  the  incarnation,  which  was  solely  designed 
for  the  rescue  of  a  lapsed  race,  wre  have  revealed  to  us 
as  nowhere  else  the  resources  of  an  infinite  love,  the 
tenderness,  the  yearning  solicitude  of  the  heart  of  God 
toward  the  sinful  and  suffering  of  earth.  In  the  mag- 
nitude of  this  condescension  and  sacrifice  we  discover 
his  estimate  of  the  worth  of  the  soul's  limitless  capabil- 
ities of  virtue  and  bliss.  We  have  also  here  an  exam- 
ple of  what  weak  man  can  become  through  the  disci- 
pline of  struggle  when  he  is  overshadowed,  as  it  is  ever 
his  privilege  to  be,  by  the  Divine  influence.  We  of 
course  can  never  solve  many  of  the  mysteries  that 
shroud  the  nature  of  Christ,  but  that  he  was  human  we 
have  as  incontestable  proofs  as  that  he  was  superhuman. 
In  intellect,  sensibility,  and  will,  as  well  as  in  body, 
his  powers  were  at  first  as  germinal  as  those  of  any  son 
of  Adam,  equally  requiring  the  attrition  of  this  world's 
experiences  for  their  expansion  and  maturing.  Christ 
passed  through  no  mock  childhood ;  indeed,  up  to  the 
time  of  his  death,  every  year  witnessed  some  new 
growth,  revealed  some  new  weakness  against  which  to 
contend,  over  which  gloriously  to  triumph.  Luke  ex- 
pressly states  that  he  "increased  in  knowledge  and 
stature,"  thus  affirming  of  him  what  is  true  only  of 
the  finite.  Christ  would  never  have  wept  at  the  grave 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  227 

of  Lazarus  had  he  known  that  in  an  hour  he  would  be 
seated  with  him  at  table.  The  nearness,  almost  imme- 
diateness,  of  Lazarus's  recall  to  life,  the  glorious  proof 
the  miracle  was  to  give  of  Christ's  mission,  the  rap- 
turous welcome  with  which  Mary  and  Martha  were 
about  to  greet  their  again  living  brother,  must  necessa- 
rily have  precluded  on  the  part  of  the  Saviour,  had  he 
then  foreseen  the  future,  the  possibility  either  of  sym- 
pathetic or  of  personal  grief.  It  was  the  man  whose 
voice  was  broken  with  sobs ;  it  was  the  God  whose 
voice  afterward  quickened  the  dulled  ear  of  the  dead. 
He  was  also  evidently  full  of  weaknesses,  of  constitu- 
tional besetments  to  sin,  from  whose  influences  he  was 
never  exempt,  and  to  withstand  which  he  summoned 
moral  forces  differing  neither  in  nature  nor  in  amount 
from  what  he  has  vouchsafed  every  disciple.  The 
declaration  that  he  was  tempted  in  all  points  as  we  are, 
necessitates  this  conclusion.  The  temptations  in  the 
wilderness  were  possible  only  to  a  youth  comparatively 
inexperienced,  suddenly  made  conscious  of  miraculous 
gifts  which  seemed  readily  convertible  into  purposes  of 
self-seeking.  Selfishness  is  a  species  of  short-sighted- 
ness, promptings  to  which  can  never  arise  in  a  mind  of 
infinite  range.  The  prayer  in  Gethsemane,  the  cry  on 
the  cross,  betrayed  a  shrinking,  a  sense  of  weakness  and 
dependence,  distinctively  human.  When  thus  once 
deeply  impressed  with  the  genuine  completeness  of 
Christ's  humanity,  a  fact  never  questioned  by  his  apos- 
tles, when  led  to  consider  him  as  our  veritable  elder 
brother,  then  his  holiness,  his  matchless  ardor  of  love, 
more  than  excites  admiration ;  it  nerves  endeavor  by 
kindling  hope  of  successful  discipleship,  it  prepares  for 


228  VIEWS  ON  VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

that  deep  peace  that  accompanies  and  rewards  the 
grateful  consecration  of  a  life.  To  draw  men  thus  into 
sympathetic  nearness  with  himself  was  also  the  aim 
always  manifest  in  the  acts  and  teachings  of  his  minis- 
try. Though  within  his  ready  reach  lay  ease,  luxury, 
learned  leisure,  high  social  rank,  political  preferment, 
the  glory  of  arms,  even  the  crown  of  kingdoms,  when 
he  found  them  threatening  to  thwart  this  purpose  he 
promptly  put  from  him  every  tempting  offer,  choosing 
rather  to  be  identified  with  the  poor,  the  illiterate,  and 
the  weak,  there  to  work  his  miracles  and  there  to 
gather  the  witnesses  of  his  Messiahship.  He  thereby 
made  men  feel  that  humbleness  of  station  furnished  no 
barrier  to  a  welcomed  and  esteemed  companionship 
with  himself;  that  he  held  in  lightest  regard  the  con- 
ventional distinctions  of  society,  the  classifications  which 
prevailed  because  of  accidents  of  birth,  unequal  distri- 
butions of  fortune,  or  differences  of  mental  power ;  that 
with  him  right  states  of  heart  were  the  sole  passports 
to  favor;  that  true  dignity  comported  with  moral 
worth,  ranking  him  first  who  lived  the  noblest,  loved 
the  most.  He  consorted  not  only  with  the  poor  and 
illiterate,  but  with  publicans  and  sinners.  Even  those 
whose  lives  were  blackened  with  guilt,  if  repentant  and 
believing,  were  welcomed  and  forgiven.  "  Neither  do 
I  condemn  thee ;  go  and  sin  no  more,"  were  his  golden 
words  of  encouragement  to  an  abandoned  woman. 
Paradise  was  promised  the  thief  on  the  cross.  "  Go 
and  tell  Peter,"  he  especially  charged  the  women  who 
came  early  to  the  sepulchre,  though  that  same  Peter 
only  the  Friday  before  had  denied  him  with  bitter 
blasphemy.  He  clothed  with  becoming  dignity  the 


SATAN  ANTICIPATED.  229 

ever-recurring  duties  of  daily  life.  He  manifested  pro- 
foundest  sympathy  for  those  oppressed  with  care,  filled 
with  weakness,  apprehensive  of  evil,  and  disheartened 
by  frequent  failure.  To  this  intimate  acquaintanceship 
and  sympathy  he  added  also  a  superhuman  power  to 
help,  assuring  his  followers  that  he  would  ever  live 
their  earnest  and  able  advocate  with  the  Father. 

Thus  by  a  life  of  generous  sacrifice,  possible  only  in 
the  midst  of  suffering  and  struggle,  he  laid  the  founda- 
tions of  a  friendship  broad  as  humanity  and  lasting  as 
the  soul. 

A  little  while  before  his  crucifixion  he  gathered  his 
disciples  about  him  to  bid  them  good-by  and  give  some 
word  of  cheer  as  parting  token  of  his  love.  At  first 
glance  it  seems  strange  he  should  have  there  said,  "  My 
peace  I  leave  with  you,"  thinking  thus  to  comfort 
them,  for  his  life  had  been  a  fierce  warfare,  and  on  his 
brow  had  so  often  stood  the  sweat  and  blood  of  battle ; 
while  just  behind  the  lifting  curtains  of  the  future  lay 
that  night  of  bitter,  passionate  pleading,  that  crown  of 
thorns,  that  cross  of  infamy  and  of  anguish.  He,  too, 
at  this  same  time,  was  summoning  them  to  a  life  of 
similar  toil,  privation,  and  shame.  Bonds  and  im- 
prisonment he  knew  awaited  them.  Yet,  unless  this 
bequest  was  meant  for  cold  irony,  the  hollow  laugh  of 
despair,  the  jest  of  a  man  made  mad  through  crushed 
hopes,  Christ's  gift  of  peace  must  have  been  both  pos- 
sible and  priceless.  In  exaltation  and  abiding  fulness 
of  joy  he  must  have  gone  beyond  all  past  human  expe- 
riences. That  joy  must  have  been  a  present  possession, 
else  he  could  not  have  bequeathed  it.  It  must  have 
been  secured,  not  despite  his  sufferings  and  struggles, 


230  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

but  because  of  them ;  for  had  he  not  himself  said,  "  He 
that  loveth  his  life  shall  lose  it"  ?  That  joy  must  have 
been  within  the  reach  only  of  those  who  emulated  his 
sacrifice  and  reciprocated  his  devotion,  consenting  as 
willingly  to  die  for  him  as  he  for  them,  for  had  he  not 
also  said,  "He  that  loseth  his  life  for  my  sake,  the 
same  shall  save  it"  ? 


THE   KEY  TO    SUCCESS. 


THE  whole  universe  of  matter  and  mind  is  under  the 
absolute  control  of  exact  laws.  There  is  no  world  too 
ponderous,  no  floating  mote  too  minute,  to  be  beyond 
the  reach  of  these  systematic  methods  of  God's  working. 
Leverrier,  the  celebrated  French  astronomer,  once  staked 
his  reputation  with  all  the  implicit  trust  of  science  on 
this  mathematical  precision  of  the  skies.  One  night  in 
the  summer  of  1846,  at  a  late  hour,  he  might  have  been 
seen,  pencil  in  hand,  intently  studying  sundry  papers 
lying  on  the  desk  before  him.  He  was  solving  the 
problem  of  the  cause  of  the  perturbations  of  Uranus. 
The  next  morning,  over  his  well-known  signature,  the 
Academy  of  Sciences  received  the  startling  announce- 
ment that  if  astronomers  would  turn  the  tubes  of  their 
telescopes  as  he  directed  they  would  find  a  hitherto  un- 
discovered planet  belonging  to  our  solar  system.  The 
tubes  were  turned,  and,  sure  enough,  there  shone  Nep- 
tune, which  had  till  then  escaped  the  notice  of  mankind. 
Even  the  comets  that  so  frighten  the  untaught  by  their 
seemingly  wild  dashing  among  the  stars,  vary  not  a 
hair's  breadth  from  the  circuits  assigned  them  by  un- 
changeable laws.  The  poetic  fancy  of  the  music  of  the 
spheres  rests  on  a  fact  foundation. 

231 


232  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

Look  at  the  liftman  eye.  How  exact  is  its  structure! 
how  exact  the  laws  of  refraction  which  light  obeys  in 
giving  perfectness  to  the  image  it  paints  on  the  retina ! 
The  surfaces  of  its  little  water-lenses  are  curved  with 
such  delicate  nicety,  and  their  distances  fixed  with  such 
precision,  that  they  wholly  avoid  that  spherical  aberra- 
tion which  has  so  long  troubled  science  and  compelled 
learned  men,  in  order  to  effect  its  removal  from  their 
instruments,  to  expend  millions  of  money  and  months 
of  thought. 

In  the  vegetable  kingdom  are  met  the  workings  of 
alike  immutable  laws.  A  series  of  fractions,  whose 
variations  in  value  are  in  accordance  with  the  rule  of 
arithmetical  progression,  determines  the  position  of 
leaves  on  plant-stems;  the  peculiar  arrangement  of 
wood-cells  shows  the  veining  of  those  leaves,  and  their 
green  pulp  tells  the  climate  where  they  thrive,  the  aver- 
age moisture  of  the  atmosphere,  and  the  amount  of  sun- 
light that  reaches  the  place  of  their  growing.  By  some 
strange  alchemy,  whose  secret  has  been  intrusted  to  them 
by  Him  wrho  fixed  its  unerring  laws,  those  plants  con- 
vert invisible  gases  into  tinted  flowers,  change  starch  to 
sugar,  and  turn  carbonic  poison  into  wholesome  food. 

So  exact  and  universal  are  the  laws  that  govern  in 
the  structure  of  animal  organisms,  that  if  you  take  to  a 
comparative  anatomist  a  fossil  bone  he  will  tell  the  size, 
weight,  and  form  of  the  animal  of  which  it  once  formed 
part,  where  it  lived,  and  on  what  kind  of  food  it  was 
its  custom  to  feed.  Tempests  and  torrents  that  tear 
oaks  in  such  fury  from  the  soil  where  they  have  been 
rooted  for  centuries,  volcanoes  that  light  the  heavens 
with  their  breath  and  cause  palaced  cities  to  stagger  like 


THE  KEY  TO  SUCCESS.  233 

drunken  men,  avalanches  that  rush  with  thunder-peal 
down  the  mountain-sides  and  sweep  the  plains  with 
quick  ruin,— the  very  wildest  forces  in  nature, — im- 
plicitly obey  the  dictates  of  law. 

Higher  in  the  scale  of  existences  are  found  the  same 
systematized  methods  of  working.  Metaphysicians 
give  the  laws  of  sequence  that  control  those  endless 
trains  of  ideas  that  begin  at  birth ;  of  association  that 
govern  their  recall ;  and  of  conception  which  fancy  is 
forced  to  follow  in  fashioning  out  of  this  rough  lumber 
of  the  brain  its  gorgeous  palaces  of  thought.  Com- 
binations of  colors,  proportion  of  parts,  varieties  of 
motion,  and  succession  of  sounds,  awaken  their  cor- 
respondent emotions  with  the  certainty  of  fate.  Love 
and  hatred  that  bless  and  blight  the  heart,  set  on  fire 
assemblies,  hover  over  battle-fields  to  comfort  and  to 
curse,  are  known  to  work  by  rule.  In  brief,  search 
where  you  will  among  creations  of  matter  or  concep- 
tions of  mind,  you  will  find  the  same  immutable  laws 
reaching  and  ruling  all. 

Science  discovers  the  laws  that  underlie  phenomena ; 
art  uses  them.  Science  discovers  the  expansive  power 
of  steam ;  art  by  its  cog-wheels  and  cross-bands  com- 
pels it  to  weave  its  fabrics,  print  its  thoughts,  and  draw 
its  trains  of  trade.  Science  discovers  the  chemical  ac- 
tion of  light ;  art,  properly  preparing  its  canvas,  seizes 
a  sunbeam  and  with  single  strokes  of  the  brush  paints 
pictures  that  outvie  the  masterpieces  of  Raphael  that 
hang  on  the  walls  of  the  Vatican.  Science  discovers 
that  a  compound  of  nitrate  of  potash,  sulphur,  and 
charcoal  will  explode  when  touched  by  fire ;  art  places 
the  compound  into  the  bore  of  a  cannon  and  with  it 

11* 


234  VIEWS  ON    VEXED   qUESTIONS. 

hurls  iron  balls  over  ramparts  and  into  the  ranks  of 
rebels.  Science  discovers  the  chemical  affinity  of  oxy- 
gen, zinc,  and  sulphuric  acid ;  art  lays  its  Atlantic  cables 
and  weaves  together  the  continents  of  a  world.  Science 
discovers  the  laws  of  beauty,  of  melody,  and  of  elo- 
quence ;  art  goes  to  the  marble-quarry  and  with  mallet 
and  chisel  uncovers  the  Greek  Slave's  beauty,  makes 
strong  men  weep  while  Paganini  draws  his  bow  across 
his  violin,  and  by  Demosthenes7  famed  Philippics 
breaks  the  charms  of  subtlety  and  turns  the  tide 
of  war. 

Effective  geniuses  are  they  who,  having  diligently 
investigated,  implicitly  obey  these  fixed  laws.  They 
readily  dazzle  the  unsuspecting  by  their  seeming  mira- 
cles of  attainment,  simply  because  they  alone  are  cog- 
nizant of  the  existence  of  such  laws.  We  naturally 
stand  wonder-struck  if,  entering  one  of  the  workshops 
of  the  world,  and  unacquainted  with  the  details  of  the 
process,  we  see  rough  bits  of  metal,  after  passing  through 
various  machines  and  manipulations,  changed  into  Elgin 
watches,  throbbing  as  if  they  had  souls  in  them. 
Equally  marvellous  is  the  phenomenon  of  odd  bits  of 
experience,  stray  snatches  of  town  gossip,  neighborhood 
traditions,  cast-away  scraps  of  the  street,  thoughts  and 
facts  that  any  one  can  have  for  the  asking,  going  into 
the  nicely-adjusted  machinery  of  the  busy  workshop  of 
some  trained  brain,  and  coming  out  golden-orbed  and 
beautiful  to  please  and  polish  the  fascinated  thousands. 
But  if  we  have  explained  to  us  the  training  and  drudg- 
ery submitted  to  by  that  brain  through  a  long  series  of 
years,  its  painful,  persistent,  persevering  efforts,  the 
numberless  rules  and  regulations  it  carefully  sought 


THE  KEY  TO  SUCCESS.  235 

out  and  strictly  obeyed,  if  we  are  allowed  to  follow  the 
process  step  by  step,  all  traces  of  mysterious  mental 
witchcraft  rapidly  disappear;  its  resources  of  power  are 
found  quite  attainable.  Relative  suggestion,  the  great 
kaleidoscope  of  genius,  in  which  the  little  broken  pieces 
of  ideas  that  are  but  the  trampled  rubbish  strewing  the 
thoroughfares  of  unthinking  minds  are  changed  into 
patterns  of  rarest  symmetry,  ceases  to  be  a  marvel 
when  we  discover  that  its  sides  are  lined  with  hidden 
reflectors,  and  that  only  by  its  simple  conformity  to  law 
it  becomes  gifted  with  power. 

How  the  world  wondered  when,  for  the  first  time,  a 
philosopher  split  a  sunbeam  with  his  prismatic  knife, 
and  tamed  lightnings  into  post-boys !  A  gardener  drops 
into  the  soil  a  bulb  not  weighing  an  ounce,  and  with 
scarcely  a  mark  of  grace :  out  steps  a  white-robed  lily 
whose  praises  are  heard  from  the  lips  of  the  Saviour. 
A  genius  plants  a  seed-thought  which,  under  the  opera- 
tion of  laws  that  never  can  be  changed  or  monopolized 
by  him,  sprouts,  branches,  blossoms,  ripens  into  fruit. 

To  secure  accurate  knowledge  of  these  hidden  laws 
that  underlie  phenomena,  and  effectually  to  practicalize 
in  any  field  their  restless  energies  by  skilled  appliances, 
demand  frequently  the  unremittent  industry  of  a  life- 
time. Indeed,  so  filled  are  biographies  of  the  world's 
successful  workers  with  instances  of  persistent  pains- 
taking, so  seemingly  evident  is  it  that  their  achieve- 
ments are  the  requital  of  sleepless  toil,  and  so  uniformly 
has  reward  ever  followed  such  persevering  effort,  that 
Buffon,  one  of  the  most  indefatigable  and  brilliant  ex- 
plorers France  ever  gave  to  science,  unhesitatingly  pro- 
nounced patience  to  be  the  true  touchstone  of  genius ; 


236  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

John  Foster,  the  great  English  essayist,  named  it  the 
faculty  of  "lighting  one's  own  fire;"  and  one  of  our 
distinguished  college  presidents,  "the  power  to  make 
efforts."  The  best  definition,  however,  I  have  ever 
found  is,  "  common  sense  intensified." 

On  final  analysis  of  the  methods  of  men's  working, 
an  enlightened  and  sustained  enthusiasm  will  be  discov- 
ered to  be  that  into  which  all  the  essential  elements  of 
success  can  be  resolved.  There  must  be  enkindled  an 
intense  longing  to  realize  a  definitely  conceived  ideal ; 
that  ideal  must  appear  worthy  of  any  sacrifice;  that 
longing  must  glow  with  white  heat.  There  are  un- 
doubtedly marked  differences  in  mental  endowment  in 
the  same  department,  but  those  differences  prove  often 
more  nominal  than  real,  and  by  serving  as  incentives 
secure  to  the  less  gifted  the  more  frequent  victory. 
Franklin  affirms,  "  I  have  always  thought  that  one 
man  of  tolerable  abilities  may  work  great  changes  and 
accomplish  great  affairs  among  mankind  if  he  first 
forms  a  good  plan  and,  cutting  off  all  amusements  or 
other  employments  that  would  divert  his  attention, 
makes  the  execution  of  that  same  plan  his  sole  study 
and  business."  Emerson,  in  his  "American  Scholar," 
remarks,  "  The  one  thing  of  value  is  the  active  soul. 
This  every  man  is  entitled  to.  This  every  man  contains 
in  himself,  although  in  nearly  all  men  obstructed  and  yet 
unborn.  The  soul  active  sees  absolute  truth  and  utters 
truth,  or  creates.  In  this  action  it  is  genius,  not  the 
privilege  of  here  and  there  a  favorite,  but  the  sound 
estate  of  every  man."  And,  again,  E.  P.  Whipple  says, 
"  If  we  sharply  scrutinize  the  lives  of  persons  eminent 
in  any  department  of  action  or  meditation,  we  shall 


THE  KEY   TO  SUCCESS.  237 

find  that  it  is  not  so  much  brilliancy  and  fertility  as 
constancy  and  continuousness  of  effort  which  make  a 
man  great." 

Thoroughness,  concentration,  and  courage  are  the 
main,  distinguishing  traits  of  great  men,  qualities 
rather  of  the  heart  than  of  the  head,  not  necessarily 
exclusive  inheritances  to  be  enjoyed  by  the  few,  but 
possible  acquisitions  in  reach  of  the  many. 

One  of  Wellington's  chief  sources  of  success  was 
his  thorough  mastery  of  details.  While  in  Spain  he 
gave  precise  directions  how  the  soldiers  should  prepare 
their  food ;  in  India,  the  miles  per  day  the  bullocks 
should  be  driven  that  were  provided  for  the  army. 
The  equipments  of  his  troops  were  cared  for  in  all  their 
minutiae.  The  same  exactness  he  introduced  into  his 
administration  of  civil  affairs.  From  his  earliest  school- 
days, in  every  transaction  this  trait  of  thoroughness 
appears.  The  confidence  and  unfaltering  devotion  he 
thus  inspired  unquestionably  secured  him  his  many 
and  decisive  victories.  No  great  commander  leaves 
anything  to  chance,  but  seeks  to  anticipate  every 
emergency  and  to  provide  for  it. 

Gray  spent  seven  years  perfecting  his  "  Elegy," 
which  you  can  readily  read  in  seven  minutes.  Into 
it  he  generously  poured  the  very  ripest  scholarship,  an 
intimate  acquaintance  with  the  rules  of  rhythm,  and  an 
exhaustive  study  of  the  varied  excellences  of  English 
and  Latin  classics.  Every  syllable  was  submitted  to 
closest  scrutiny,  the  cadence  of  the  verse  was  suited  to 
the  character  of  the  thought,  every  outline  was  vivid, 
every  tint  toned,  every  picture  perfect,  before  he  suf- 
fered his  poem  to  pass  into  print.  This  palace  of 


238  VIEWS  ON    VEXED    qUESTIONS. 

thought  was  no  single  night's  work  of  slave-genii 
obeying  the  behest  of  one  holding  some  magical  lamp 
of  Aladdin,  but  was  built  up,  like  coral-reef,  particle 
by  particle.  And  this  complete  mastery  of  detail  was 
secured  only  by  the  most  protracted  concentration  of 
effort.  By  resolutely  chaining  his  thought  to  his  theme, 
completely  surrendering  himself  to  its  guidance,  the 
inexorable  laws  of  suggestion  irresistibly  led  him  back 
through  the  past's  faded  and  forgotten  scenes  in  the 
humble  lives  of  the  sleeping  cottagers  until  the  scenery 
and  personages  of  every  picture  at  last  brightened  and 
breathed  before  his  mental  vision  with  all  the  sharply- 
outlined  vividness  of  real  life. 

This  intense  vividness  of  vision,  the  sure  outcome  of 
mental  concentration,  is  absolutely  indispensable  to  suc- 
cess. Fancv  must  first  paint  the  canvas  before  the 
brush  touches  it.  The  Greek  Slave  stands  before  us 
now  with  no  more  clearly  defined  symmetry  of  form 
than  she  did  before  Powers  long  ere  with  the  chisel 
his  skilled  hand  threw  off  her  rough  mantle  of  mar- 
ble. A  celebrated  French  actor,  in  order  that  he  might 
on  the  stage  successfully  impersonate  the  dying,  fre- 
quented Paris  hospitals  and  narrowly  watched  each 
spasm  of  agony  that  passed  over  the  faces  of  those  that 
were  in  the  very  act  of  dissolution,  thus  gaining  a 
vividness  of  conception  that  never  left  him.  Macau- 
lay  says,  "  Dante  is  the  eye-witness  and  the  ear- witness 
of  that  which  he  relates.  He  is  the  very  man  who  has 
heard  the  tormented  spirits  crying  out  for  the  second 
death ;  who  has  read  the  dusky  characters  on  the  por- 
tal within  which  there  is  no  hope ;  who  has  hidden  his 
face  from  the  terrors  of  the  Gorgon  ;  who  has  fled  from 


THE  KEY  TO  SUCCESS.  239 

the  hooks  and  the  seething  pitch  of  Barbariccia  and  Di- 
aghignazzo.  His  own  hands  have  grasped  the  shaggy 
sides  of  Lucifer.  His  own  feet  have  climbed  the  moun- 
tain of  expiation.  His  own  brow  has  been  marked  by 
the  purifying  angel."  Handel,  being  asked  about  his 
ideas  and  feelings  when  composing  the  "  Hallelujah 
Chorus,"  replied,  "  I  did  think  I  did  see  all  heaven 
before  me,  and  the  great  God  himself."  It  is  related 
of  him  that  he  would  frequently  burst  into  tears  while 
writing,  and  was  once  found  by  a  visitor  sobbing  uncon- 
trollably when  in  the  act  of  setting  the  words,  "  He 
was  despised."  Shields  tells  us  that  his  servant  who 
brought  his  coffee  in  the  morning  often  stood  in  silent 
astonishment  to  see  his  master's  tears  mixing  in  the  ink 
as  he  penned  his  divine  notes.  We  are  informed  by 
the  author  of  "  Credo"  that  Foster  used  to  walk  the 
aisles  of  his  church  at  Chichester  often  by  moonlight 
and  starlight,  until  at  length  he  wore  a  path  in  the  solid 
pavements.  He  wrestled  by  the  hour  in  prayer  strug- 
gling with  eternity  and  immortality  and  fashioning  those 
mighty  sentences  which,  says  Robert  Hall,  "  are  like  a 
great  lumber- wagon  loaded  with  gold."  He  used  to 
kneel  in  charnel-houses  and  pray  the  dead  to  break  the 
silence  and  speak  to  him  of  the  Invisible. 

Inseparable  from  these  traits  of  thoroughness  and 
concentration  is  that  of  unfaltering  courage, — courage 
to  undertake  great  enterprises,  "  to  scorn  delights  and 
live  laborious  days,"  to  brave  public  sentiment  in  faithful 
adhesion  to  conclusions  of  your  own  thinking, — cour- 
age that  will  not  fail  even  in  the  hour  of  last  extremity, 
but  inspire  you  to  be  lashed  as  was  Farragut  to  the 
mast  of  your  battle-ship  on  the  eve  of  action,  or  like 


240  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

the  gallant  crew  of  the  Cumberland  to  pour  your 
heaviest  broadside  on  the  enemy  and  boldly  flaunt  the 
banner  of  your  purpose  just  before  you  go  down.  It 
must  be  the  courage  of  that  Switzer  of  the  fourteenth 
century,  Arnold  Winkelried,  who  in  the  engagement 
of  Sempach  gathered  to  his  breast  the  spears  of  the 
Austrian  phalanx  that  thereby  he  might  open  a  way 
for  the  rude  hammers  and  hatchets  of  his  countrymen. 
It  must  be  such  courage  as  inspired  Luther  to  resolve 
to  answer  the  summons  of  the  Diet  at  Worms  though 
he  should  meet  as  many  devils  as  there  were  tiles  on 
the  houses ;  to  hurl  his  inkstand  at  what  he  firmly  be- 
lieved to  be  the  veritable  Prince  of  Evil ;  even  to  de- 
liberately compose  himself  to  sleep  at  a  time  when, 
as  he  thought,  fiends  from  hell  had  passed  within  his 
chamber-door  and  were  flitting  threateningly  about  his 
very  bedside. 

Cortez,  when  entering  upon  that  series  of  triumphs 
which  finally  overwhelmed  with  irremediable  ruin  the 
proud  throne  of  the  Montezumas  and  filled  Europe 
with  admiring  wonder,  first  resolutely  burnt  every  ship 
behind  him,  keenly  discerning  that  by  lessening  the 
hopes  of  retreat  he  proportionately  lessened  the  chances 
of  failure.  Wellington  conquered  the  armies  of  Napo- 
leon and  twice  rode  victor  into  Paris,  mainly  because 
he  was  a  general  who  durst  carry  out  his  own  matured 
ways  of  warfare  despite  the  mad  clamor  of  all  Eng- 
land, bravely  trusting  in  the  laws  that  governed  the 
temper  of  the  French  army,  which  inevitably  fell  to 
pieces  when  not  led  to  frequent  victory ;  and  because 
he  was  one  who,  when  the  time  was  ripe,  fell  like  an 
avalanche  on  the  famed  soldiery  of  France  and  pressed 


THE  KEY  TO  SUCCESS.  241 

his  advantage  with  indomitable  will  through  dangers 
and  difficulties  and  the  most  exhausting  fatigue. 

The  quiet  walks  of  literature  demand  this  courage 
equally  with  the  stirring  scenes  of  national  battle- 
fields. Wordsworth's  sublime  adoption  and  advocacy 
of  his  own  deliberately  formed  judgment  of  true  taste 
against  the  adverse  criticism  of  the  entire  world  of  let- 
ters, his  jeopardizing  every  prospect  of  earthly  prefer- 
ment rather  than  violate  his  convictions  of  poetic 
excellence,  demanded  as  great  moral  bravery  as  is  re- 
quired to  climb  a  ship's  mast  in  a  storm  or  face  the  fire 
of  an  enemy. 

These  traits,  thoroughness,  concentration,  and  cour- 
age, I  conceive  to  be  the  three  essential  gifts  of  great- 
ness. Without  them,  no  alertness  of  intellect  has  ever 
achieved  a  work  which  bears  the  impress  of  immortal- 
ity ;  with  them,  rarely  need  any  one  despair  of  accom- 
plishing "  that  which  the  world  will  not  willingly  let 
die." 

These  gifts  I  further  conceive  to  be  but  different  mani- 
festations of  some  one  master-passion,  enkindling  and 
controlling  every  mental  faculty;  appearing  either  as  an 
intense  love  of  the  perfect,  seeking  satisfaction  in  some 
acquired  excellence,  combined  with  a  keen  relish  and 
aptitude  for  the  chosen  work  ;  or  as  a  thirst  for  power 
and  fame,  akin,  in  the  imperative  nature  of  its  calls,  to 
bodily  thirst ;  or  else  as  the  soul's  nobler  devotion  that 
grows  out  of  its  warm  attachments  to  home,  country,  or 
the  cross  of  Christ.  These  passions,  separate  or  com- 
bined, must  be  the  mainspring  of  every  action;  they 
must  be  the  inspiration  of  every  thought ;  they  must 
flood  the  whole  life  with  an  irresistible  and  perpetual 


242  VIEWS  ON    VEXED    qUESTIONS. 

influence.  Through  them,  unlettered  and  ill-balanced 
minds  have  worked  wonders  in  the  world.  Infuse 
men  of  enlightened  common  sense  with  their  deathless 
fires,  and  obstructing  walls  of  adamant  crumble  at 
their  touch. 

The  further  my  researches  extend  into  the  private 
histories  of  those  who  have  acquired  eminence  through 
intrinsic  worth,  the  more  am  I  convinced  that  an  en- 
lightened and  sustained  enthusiasm  has  been  their  real 
source  of  strength ;  that  only  through  its  influence  have 
been  developed  the  mighty  mental  forces  that  have 
moulded  the  character  and  controlled  the  destiny  of  any 
era ;  that  only  intense  temperaments  working  under  the 
stimulus  of  profound  passion  could  ever  have  exhibited 
such  exhaustless  patience,  such  concentration  of  thought, 
such  heroic  fixedness  of  purpose,  hunger,  ignominy, 
even  death,  proving  powerless  to  damp  their  ardor. 
What  wonder  that  the  world  has  ever  persisted  in  calling 
its  geniuses  its  madmen  ?  Prescott,  we  are  told,  spent 
twenty  years  in  the  libraries  of  Europe,  collecting  from 
musty  manuscripts  and  neglected  letters  material  for  his 
Spanish  histories,  and  a  large  portion  of  that  time  he 
was  stricken  with  blindness  so  that  he  had  to  make  use 
of  the  eyes  of  another.  Gibbon  rewrote  his  "Memoirs" 
nine ;  Newton,  his  "Chronology,"  fifteen ;  and  Addison, 
his  inimitable  essays,  twenty  times. 

Spinoza  and  Buckle  each  spent  twenty  years  in  care- 
fully forming  and  maturing  their  judgment  before  they 
published  their  systems  of  thought.  For  Spinoza, 
those  were  years  of  the  most  intense  self-study;  for 
Buckle,  the  most  exhaustive  research  into  the  literatures 
of  all  ages  and  peoples,  embracing  every  conceivable 


THE  KEY  TO  SUCCESS.  243 

theme.  Those  years  were  by  both  spent  in  profoundest 
obscurity,  and  bore  witness  to  a  patient  confidence  in 
the  final  triumph  of  labor,  to  a  self-trust  and  self- 
mastery  that  were  absolutely  sublime. 

It  is  related  of  Balzac  that  before  he  commenced 
any  work  of  fiction  he  wandered  week  after  week  up 
and  down  the  streets  of  Paris,  studying  phases  of 
character  and  prying  into  different  modes  of  life; 
then  for  months,  excluding  himself  from  all  society, 
he  toiled  incessantly,  perfecting  his  plot,  unfolding  the 
traits  of  his  personages,  and  polishing  his  periods. 
When  he  came  from  his  retreat  a  blanched  cheek  told 
a  tale  of  utter  exhaustion  consequent  upon  such  pro- 
tracted mental  struggle.  But  his  untiring  industry 
by  no  means  stopped  here.  The  proof-sheets  under- 
went such  thorough  revision  that  the  type  had  to  be 
reset.  New  sheets,  subjected  to  like  ordeal,  were 
blackened  with  fresh  corrections.  Again  and  again 
this  process  was  repeated,  until  his  fingers  were  no 
longer  able  to  hold  his  pen,  or  his  printer  to  keep 
his  temper.  This  author's  first  books  were  failures. 
They  either  fell  unheeded  from  the  press,  or  were 
noticed  only  to  be  decried.  His  friends  flatly  told 
him  he  had  no  faculty  for  fiction,  and  attempted  to 
dissuade  him  from  making  any  further  efforts,  as  they 
feared  that  each  additional  volume  would  but  give 
wider  publicity  to  his  deficiency  of  gifts.  He,  how- 
ever, with  undaunted  spirit  patiently  plodded  on 
through  years  of  deferred  hope,  until  by  persistent 
painstaking  his  struggling  genius  at  last  found  fit 
expression.  The  French  public  then  reversed  its 
verdict  and  made  him  its  idol. 


244  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

Montesquieu,  speaking  of  one  of  his  own  writings, 
remarked  to  a  friend,  "  You  will  read  this  book  in  a 
few  hours,  but  I  assure  you  it  has  cost  me  so  much 
labor  it  has  whitened  my  hair."  Hugh  Miller,  even 
while  he  felt  his  brain  burn  with  incipient  insanity, 
while  his  imagination  was  conjuring  up  the  horrid 
phantoms  that  flit  before  the  cursed  eyes  of  the  crazed, 
was  so  determined  to  write  the  last  page  of  that  mar- 
vellous book,  "  The  Testimony  of  the  Rocks/'  he  bent 
over  his  manuscripts  till  long  after  midnight  for  weeks 
together,  keeping  at  bay  a  horde  of  insurgent  thoughts 
foaming  to  hurl  reason  from  its  throne,  till  the  work 
was  complete. 

Goldsmith's  style,  famed  for  its  simplicity,  being 
clear,  musical,  flowing  as  a  brooklet,  seemingly  artless 
as  a  child's  talk,  was  acquired  by  strict  examination 
of  every  word,  every  vowel-sound,  every  consonant. 
Burke,  who  did  not  enter  public  life  until  thirty,  and 
who  was  one  of  the  most  indefatigable  of  students 
during  those  years,  on  one  occasion  after  holding  the 
Parliament  of  England  for  over  two  hours  with  one  of 
his  masterly  arguments  on  an  important  national  theme, 
impressively  pausing  an  instant,  for  five  minutes  spell- 
bound every  heart  with  bursts  of  splendor.  After 
the  speech  a  friend  congratulating  him  remarked,  "  I 
thought  you  had  finished,  but  you  extemporized  such 
eloquence  as  I  never  expect  to  hear  again."  "Ah," 
said  Burke,  "  that  extemporaneous  passage,  as  you  are 
pleased  to  term  it,  cost  me  four  days'  hard  labor,  nearly 
two  of  which  were  expended  on  the  closing  sentence." 

Dr.  Harvey  spent  eight,  Dr.  Jenner  twenty,  and  Sir 
Charles  Bell  forty  years,  maturing  their  three  famed 


THE  KEY  TO  SUCCESS.  245 

discoveries  in  medical  science.  Titian  painted  daily 
on  one  picture  for  seven  years  and  eight  on  another. 
Callcott  drew  forty  sketches  of  his  "  Rochester"  before 
it  met  his  ideal.  Palissy  before  he  won  his  laurels  as 
a  worker  in  clay  was  counted  a  lunatic.  So  desperate 
was  his  resolve  that  he  reduced  himself  and  family  to 
the  very  verge  of  beggary.  He  burnt  his  scanty  fur- 
niture, even  tore  up  the  flooring  of  his  cottage,  to  feed 
his  furnaces,  but  at  last  out  of  those  hungry  flames 
came  the  long-sought-for  white  enamel,  and  then  the 
rich  and  titled  of  the  Empire  were  prodigal  of  their 
praises. 

Ghiberti,  a  Florentine  artist  who  flourished  toward 
the  close  of  the  fourteenth  century,  executed  for  the 
baptistery  of  his  native  city  two  pair  of  bronze  doors, 
the  bas-reliefs  in  whose  panels  were  in  point  of  con- 
ception and  workmanship  so  masterful  that  Michael 
Angelo,  in  a  mood  of  ecstasy,  pronounced  them  worthy 
to  be  the  very  gates  of  Paradise.  But  thus  to  project 
in  thought  and  afterward  embody  in  bronze  these  rep- 
resentative scenes  in  Bible  history  consumed  forty  busy 
years  of  this  artist's  life.  His  fame,  however,  has 
proved  as  enduring  as  his  works  were  perfect.  From 
Ghiberti,  critics  date  a  new  epoch  in  Italian  art. 

Paganini  profoundly  studied  the  relations  of  sound 
to  emotion  and  disciplined  his  muscles  to  utmost  nicety 
of  movement  before  lie  was  prepared  so  wondrously  to 
move  and  melt  his  audiences.  Raphael  acquired  liberal 
college  culture,  carefully  examined  the  works  of  great 
painters,  copied  hundreds  of  their  designs,  spent  several 
years  in  the  study  of  perspective,  personally  dissected 
human  and  brute  organisms,  accurately  observed  facial 


246  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

expressions,  postures  of  grace  and  strength,  and  noted 
precise  effects  of  tints  and  shadings  on  the  canvas. 

There  were  thirteen  years  of  untiring  effort,  of  the 
free  outpouring  of  princely  fortunes,  and  of  disastrous 
failures,  before  the  telegraphic  cable,  whose  grand  ideal 
was  first  wrought  out  in  the  workshop  of  an  American 
brain,  at  last  rested  a  signal  success  on  the  broad  plateau 
beneath  the  waters  of  the  Atlantic,  binding  together  the 
continents  of  a  world.  Thirty-three  times  Field  crossed 
that  ocean  and  fought  with  tides  and  tempests.  All 
the  accumulations  of  a  successful  mercantile  life  went 
down,  until  naught  but  an  unrealized  ideal,  sustained 
by  an  unconquered  will,  was  left  him.  Twelve  of  those 
years  were  gone.  Four  times  he  had  tasted  the  bitter 
ashes  of  disappointment.  At  the  fourth  trial  the  dis- 
tant shores  were  joined,  but  the  few  faint  throbbings  of 
electric  life  served  for  the  succeeding  death-hush  only  as 
a  prelude  and  a  warning.  The  bonfires  went  out,  and 
the  darkness  of  the  night  grew  denser.  Again  he 
thought  at  last  to  grasp  the  prize ;  but  the  imperfect 
cable  parted  and  in  an  instant  buried  itself,  and,  to  all 
seeming,  the  hopes  of  its  projector,  under  the  sea.  For 
a  moment  hot  tears  fell  on  the  deck  of  the  Great 
Eastern.  "It  is  but  a  mad  attempt  at  the  impossible," 
was  the  judgment  of  mankind.  One  year  more  of 
dauntless  striving,  and  science  claimed  one  of  her  proud- 
est triumphs  and  history  recorded  the  name  of  another 
hero. 

Though  Ignatius  Loyola  was  in  the  full  noon  of  life, 
without  the  least  knowledge  of  books,  and  engaged  in 
a  cause  demanding  the  most  thorough  discipline  of  the 
schools;  though  he  was  deeply  chagrined  at  thirty-three 


THE  KEY  TO  SUCCESS.  247 

years  already  dissipated  in  aimless  folly,  yet,  such  was 
his  enthusiasm  to  realize  the  ideal  which  he  had  made 
the  bright  espousal  of  his  thought,  he  gave,  now  already 
grown  bald-headed,  ten  toilsome  years  to  study,  and 
kindled  in  the  breast  of  Xavier  and  other  of  his  coun- 
trymen the  same  fierce  fires  of  devotion  that  burnt  in 
his  own.  Sadly  mistaken  as  was  this  founder  of  the 
Jesuits,  despotic  and  blasting  as  was  the  hold  of  his 
order  on  the  souls  of  men,  still  who  can  fail  to  admire, 
as  he  turns  the  pages  of  JesuiticaNiistory,  the  wellnigh 
irresistibleness  that  lay  in  that  singleness  of  aim,  that 
full  consecration  to  a  purpose,  which  characterized  this 
earnest  man?  Garibaldi,  the  patriot  of  to-day,  who 
has  snatched  glad  Italy  from  the  clutch  of  a  despot, 
whether  he  coasted  along  the  shores  of  the  Mediterra- 
nean, or  foot-sore  and  fatigued  rested  on  his  arms  in  the 
serpent-crowded  forests  of  South  America,  whether  he 
wept  over  the  thinned  ranks  of  his  comrades  as  he  des- 
perately fought  for  the  liberties  of  a  strange  people,  or 
fled  with  a  dead  wife  in  his  arms  before  the  blood- 
hounds of  power  and  dug  her  grave  in  the  desolate  pass 
of  the  mountains,  never  in  his  life  was  known  to  forget 
the  enthusiastic  vow  of  his  youth,  but  rather  made  the 
rough,  rude  winds  of  trouble  fan  his  zeal  for  country 
to  a  brighter  and  a  purer  burning. 

At  the  opening  of  this  nineteenth  century,  in  the 
dungeons  of  the  First  Napoleon,  Toussaint,  the  Haytian 
Liberator,  lay  dying.  The  renown  of  one  who  had 
been  a  slave  till  fifty  the  base  despoiler  of  nations 
envied  and  durst  not  let  such  genius  live.  In  former 
years  across  the  waters  had  come  tidings  of  the  black 
warrior  and  his  conquering  bauds  of  serfs.  When  he 


248  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

entered  the  arena  five  armies  were  in  death-grapple, 
without  purpose  or  plan.  Nobly  determined  to  liberate 
his  people,  he  joined  forces  with  Republican  France. 
Such  was  his  energy  in  battle,  the  English  were  driven 
from  every  stronghold ;  twenty-eight  Spanish  forts  in 
four  days  fell  before  his  advancing  columns;  he  main- 
tained against  an  allied  enemy  long  lines  of  impregnable 
defence,  successfully  besieged  St.  Marc,  and  closed  the 
campaign  by  English  capitulation  and  the  retreat  of  the 
Spanish  forces.  Sqpn  after,  French  jealousy  began  to 
burn,  kindling  against  him  the  mulatto  fury,  and  open- 
ing afresh  the  wounds  of  civil  war,  but  with  firm  hand 
he  quelled  insurrection,  restored  order,  encouraged 
industry,  and  with  far-seeing  statesmanship  gave  con- 
stitutional guarantees  to  freedom. 

Loyal  still  to  France,  he  unwittingly  sent  advices  to 
Napoleon,  then  First  Consul,  who,  fearful  of  the  rising 
splendor  of  the  negro  chieftain,  and  uneasy  under  watch- 
ing eyes  at  court,  sent  against  the  island  thirty  thousand 
veterans  and  upward  of  sixty  men-of-war,  dreaming  of 
easy  triumphs  and  the  re-enslavement  of  a  free  people. 
His  generals,  long  drilled  in  war  and  fresh  from  con- 
quests on  the  Continent,  here  at  last  found  a  master. 

The  brave  blacks  at  Cape  Franyois  defiantly  burnt 
the  city  in  their  faces  and  sounded  to  battle.  Napoleon 
sent  Toussaint's  unsuspecting  sons  from  their  schools  in 
Europe,  bearing  messages  of  mingled  threat  and  promise, 
in  hope  thus  to  unman  the  patriot  through  the  tender 
love  of  the  father.  Could  Toussaint  violate  confided 
trusts  and  betray  to  ruin  liberty  bought  with  blood  ? 
Following  his  sublime  refusal  came  that  conflict  in 
which  ten  thousand  of  Napoleon's  trained  soldiery 


THE  KEY  TO  SUCCESS.  249 

were  slain  and  the  disordered  remnants  of  his  defeated 
forces  fell  an  easy  prey  to  the  galling  fire  of  mountain 
marksmen.  Outgeneralled  in  open  fight,  the  French 
officers,  under  Napoleon's  express  command,  resorted  to 
cowardly  intrigue,  professing  friendship  and  promising 
liberal  rule.  The  African's  nobly  confiding  nature  led 
him  into  the  hands  of  his  captors. 

They  could  manacle  the  old  man's  body,  but  not  his 
thought;  could  desolate  his  home,  but  its  clustering 
associations,  comfort-laden,  were  above  the  reach  of 
their  vandal  fingers.  Breaking  the  distant  prison's 
lonely  stillness  came  the  accents  of  a  people's  benedic- 
tion ;  on  its  darkness  fell  the  radiance  of  approaching 
glory.  Regal  powers  had  been  developed  in  the  con- 
flict ;  and  none  could  ever  rob  him  of  the  joy  of  their 
conscious  consecration  to  a  work  of  love.  Napoleon 
was  taken  to  St.  Helena,  followed  by  the  curses  of 
widowed  Europe.  His  death-bed  memories  wandered 
vaguely  to  troubled  battle-scenes  and  faded  battle-glory. 
He  had  outlived  his  honor,  and  for  him  no  brightening 
promise  beckoned  beyond  the  future's  lifting  curtains. 

To  such  self-sacrificing  enthusiasm  for  country  Tous- 
saint  owed  the  development  of  his  marvellous  military 
genius.  None  of  us  can  know  with  what  possibilities 
we  have  been  divinely  gifted  until  our  lives  possess 
this  singleness  of  aim,  this  profound  consecration  to 
a  purpose.  Toussaint  could  have  truthfully  said,  in 
the  beautiful  words  of  the  Eastern  fable,  "  I  was  but 
common  clay  till  roses  were  planted  in  me." 

We  have  but  touched  upon  the  romances  of  enthu- 
siasm with  which  the  pages  of  the  world's  history 
abound.  But  what  need  is  there  of  further  multiply- 

12 


250  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

ing  instances  of  the  achievements  of  this  wonderfully 
transforming  power?  Time  would  fail  me  to  speak  of 
Hayden  and  Huber,  Milton  and  Beethoven,  who,  de- 
spite defects  in  sight  and  hearing  sufficient  to  have 
paralyzed  any  but  those  of  unconquerable  spirit,  have 
left  acknowledged  masterpieces  in  painting,  science, 
poetry,  and  music,  the  four  highest  departments  in 
human  achievement.  It  is  beyond  all  controversy  that 
it  is  to  the  enlightened,  persistent,  painstaking  enthu- 
siasts this  world  belongs  and  the  fulness  thereof. 
Whence,  then,  comes  this  irresistible  impetus  of  zeal? 
How  may  it  be  most  readily  and  certainly  attained? 
Thoroughness,  concentration,  and  courage,  the  distin- 
guishing traits  of  great  men,  I  have  in  this  paper 
maintained  to  be  but  different  manifestations  of  some 
master-passion,  appearing  either  as  an  intense  love  of 
the  perfect  combined  with  a  keen  relish  and  aptitude 
for  the  chosen  work,  or  as  an  imperative  thirst  for  fame 
and  power,  or  else  as  the  soul's  nobler  devotion  to  home, 
country,  or  the  cross  of  Christ.  At  least  some  one  of 
these  passions  must  flood  the  whole  life  with  an  irre- 
sistible and  perpetual  influence.  There  have  undoubt- 
edly been  effective  workers  who  have  been  under  the 
sway  of  but  a  single  one,  but  only  from  those  in  whom 
they  all  coexist  and  co-operate  can  we  look  for  the  largest 
results. 

First,  then,  our  natural  tastes  and  aptitude  should, 
as  far  as  circumstances  permit,  control  us  in  determining 
both  the  nature  and  methods  of  our  work.  There  is 
rarely  a  sea  or  a  soil,  an  atmosphere  or  a  zone,  which 
some  forms  of  life  do  not  find  congenial.  Water-lilies 
will  uncover  their  rich  blooms  above  swamp-bogs  and 


THE  KEY  TO  SUCCESS.  251 

mingle  their  perfume  with  the  poisonous  exhalations 
that  rise  from  fever-smitten  districts.  Cacti  will  swell 
out  their  prickly  sides  and  astonish  us  with  the  rich 
pencillings  of  their  petals  though  rooted  in  the  hot 
sand-plains  of  the  tropics ;  the  lichen  will  grow  thriftily 
even  on  the  unyielding  face  of  a  rock  ;  while  up  through 
salt  depths  the  sea-weed  sends  its  delicate,  thread-like 
tracery  of  branch  and  leaf.  Even  into  the  thin,  chilled 
air  of  mountain-tops,  or  out  of  the  half-frozen  soil  of 
arctic  climes,  hardy  plant-life  pushes  its  way  with  un- 
conquerable persistence. 

So,  too,  from  every  available  corner  of  this  marvel- 
lously peopled  world,  animals  of  every  variety  of  struc- 
ture spring  into  existence.  Earth,  air,  and  water  swarm 
with  their  myriad  life.  There  is  an  almost  endless  va- 
riety of  conditions  in  which  they  are  called  to  subsist, 
but  for  each  condition  some  organism  presents  itself 
whose  wants  that  condition  or  environment  is  exactly 
suited  to  satisfy.  Within  its  appointed  habitat  every 
plant  and  animal  thrives ;  removed  from  that  it  droops 
and  dies.  The  cactus  and  sea-weed  cannot  change  places 
and  live;  the  bluebird  cannot  lay  its  eggs,  much  less 
hatch  and  rear  its  young,  in  the  nest  of  the  stickleback. 

This  same  specialization  extends  to  mankind,  and  it 
becomes  more  marked  with  each  new  decade.  The  world 
has  been  steadily  progressing  from  the  uniform  to  the 
complex.  The  employments  of  men,  their  wants,  their 
capacities,  and  their  tastes,  have  been  multiplying,  and 
are  destined  still  to  multiply  so  long  as  the  evolution  of 
a  perfect  individualism  remains  unattained.  It  is  now 
generally  conceded  that  those  who  would  command 
success  must  consent  to  become  specialists  and  must 


252  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

choose  those  callings  for  which  they  have  marked  apti- 
tude and  relish.  The  increasing  competitions  in  trade 
and  the  broadened  culture  of  modern  times  are  demand- 
ing with  emphasis  the  most  skilled  products  of  hand 
and  brain.  The  consequence  is  that  men  get  out  of 
place  much  more  easily  now  than  ever  before,  and  the 
mistake  is  much  more  likely  to  prove  serious,  perhaps 
fatal.  For  plants  and  animals  an  all-wise  Intelligence 
and  an  unbending  Will  have  predetermined  their  sepa- 
rate vocations;  and  a  most  marvellous  completeness  is 
noticeable  in  all  their  work.  The  bee,  the  spider,  and 
the  ant  are  strict  specialists  under  Divine  instructions. 
They  are  born  experts,  and  their  achievements  excite  at 
once  the  admiration  and  the  despair  of  mankind.  It  is 
true  their  methods  and  ours  not  only  widely  but  radi- 
cally differ,  for  they  require  neither  experience  nor  a 
working  model.  The  fact  that  they  are  specialists  does 
not  make  them  experts,  but  the  fact  that  they  are  di- 
vinely taught.  With  us  there  is  an  ever-growing  need 
to  intensify  thought  by  concentrating  it,  and  to  train 
our  bodily  organs  by  long  practice  on  some  one  specific 
thing.  We  have  each  been  gifted  with  a  distinct  in- 
dividualism, which  should  ever  be  courageously  main- 
tained, for  only  through  its  healthful  development  can 
we  secure  that  originality,  or  that  indefinable  personal 
magnetism,  which  we  all  covet  and  before  which  we  all 
instinctively  bow.  If  our  chosen  life-work  is  to  dis- 
cover truth,  we  must  be  in  a  receptive,  suggestive,  en- 
tirely candid  frame  of  mind,  at  the  same  time  exercising 
our  individual  reason  and  implicitly  relying  on  its  con- 
clusions. The  fruits  of  others'  labor  can  be  of  benefit 
only  as  they  are  thoroughly  mastered  and  assimilated 


THE  KEY   TO  SUCCESS.  253 

by  us,  only  as  they  are  passed  through  the  alembic  of 
our  own  minds.  They  must  serve  simply  as  stimulants 
to  afterward  independent  thinking.  If  we  ever  strike 
out  new  paths,  it  will  be  either  through  discoveries  of 
new  facts  or  through  independent  courses  of  reasoning. 
The  latter  can  be  reached  only  as  we  cultivate  unobtru- 
sive yet  firm  self-reliance  in  thought.  This  demands 
both  a  certain  self-abandonment  and  a  certain  self-as- 
sertion. An  abandonment,  in  that  the  attention  must 
be  completely  absorbed  in  the  pursuit.  There  must  be 
a  resolute  ruling  out  of  all  extraneous  and  diverting 
subjects,  together  with  such  a  genuine  heart-love  for  the 
truth  as  we  find  it  that  we  will  joyfully  become  its  dis- 
interested, outspoken,  uncompromising  champions.  A 
certain  self-assertion,  in  that  we  must  habitually  exer- 
cise, and  most  positively  assert,  a  greater  reliance  on 
our  own  conclusions  than  on  those  of  others,  and  cour- 
ageously state  and  stand  by  them  whatever  may  betide. 
A  precisely  parallel  argument  could  be  urged  in  refer- 
ence to  the  selection  of  one's  style  in  oratory  or  author- 
ship, or,  if  a  life  of  action  rather  than  meditation  be 
determined  upon,  in  the  planning  of  those  campaigns 
by  which  one  hopes  to  win  his  way  in  the  stern  world 
of  fact.  Only,  then,  by  thus  maintaining  unswerving 
loyalty  to  our  inborn  individuality,  our  natural  tastes 
and  aptitude,  and  our  own  independent  convictions  of 
truth  and  duty,  can  we  attain  unto,  or  permanently 
possess,  that  impetus  of  zeal  that  becomes  inspiration 
and  commands  victory. 

With  this  enthusiasm  of  individualism  should  also 
be  combined,  as  we  have  said,  the  zeal  of  emulation. 
This  is  too  axiomatic  to  demand  any  extended  proof,  or 


254  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

even  any  especial  emphasis  of  statement.  It  is  simply 
necessary  to  caution  against  any  selfish  or  meretricious 
phase  of  it.  No  personal  advancement  not  founded 
upon  pronounced  personal  merit  should  ever  be  sought 
for  or  accepted.  And  then  when  to  these  two  are 
added,  as  their  crown  and  finish,  that  world -embracing 
sympathy,  that  self-forgetting  love,  that  "enthusiasm 
of  humanity,"  as  the  author  of  "Ecce  Homo"  happily 
styles  it,  which  Christ  embodied  in  his  life  and  sought 
to  enkindle  in  the  hearts  of  his  disciples,  the  soul  comes 
into  its  best  estate  of  creative  energy  and  accomplishes 
its  most  enduring  work. 


SHELLEY. 


SHELLEY  was  one  of  those  strange  dreamers  who  in 
some  of  their  idiosyncrasies  resemble  madmen.  The 
public  in  their  opinion  of  him  have  been  widely  divided. 
The  majority  of  his  cotemporaries  pronounced  him  a  bad 
and  dangerous  man,  while  there  were  a  few  who  loved 
him  almost  to  veneration  ;  and  such  was  their  intimate 
acquaintance  with  the  facts  and  fancies  of  his  life,  such 
their  admitted  mental  ability  and  undoubted  candor, 
we  are  forced  to  respect  their  opinion,  and,  if  possible, 
seek  its  reconciliation  with  that  of  the  multitude.  It 
is  no1  wonder  that  such  diversity  of  sentiment  has  pre- 
vailed, so  rare  is  it  that  in  a  single  brief  life  there  has 
been  crowded  so  much  of  wild  romance ;  that  in  a  single 
mind  there  has  been  linked  such  puerility  with  such 
transcendent  genius,  such  penetration  with  such  pur- 
blindness;  that  the  same  heart  has  been  capable  of 
breathing  out  such  manifest  tenderness  and  spotless 
purity  of  aifection,  and  also  of  abandoning,  without 
any  outward  sign  of  remorse,  a  wife  and  babe,  and 
afterward  for  a  time  openly  trampling  upon  every  civ- 
ilized marriage  law  without  shame.  Is  there  a  key  to 
his  character,  or  must  he  forever  remain  to  us  a  mental 
mystery  ? 

255 


256  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

Here  is  a  being  born  with  both  wings  and  club-feet. 
At  times  he  displays  peerless  powers  of  flight,  striking 
the  stars  with  his  strong  pinions;  at  times  he  seems  an 
awkward  imbecile,  stumbling  among  the  stones.  Some, 
dazed  by  his  wings,  thought  him  an  angel ;  others,  hav- 
ing first  caught  sight  of  his  club-feet,  suffered  the  de- 
formity to  inflame  their  imaginations  until  they  believed 
him  a  veritable  man-monster.  Both  parties  erred,  yet 
each  could  cite  facts  in  its  favor ;  for  of  all  the  human 
eccentrics  that  have  come  to  the  surface  of  society, 
Shelley  the  most  resembled  an  angel — in  ruins. 

By  a  careful  analysis  of  the  five  prime  elements  of 
his  character,  idealism,  individualism,  enthusiasm,  love, 
and  hope,  their  morbid  development  and  their  intimate 
interplay,  I  am  confident  we  can  successfully  account 
for  any  apparent  dualism  either  in  his  emotions  or  mo- 
tives, that  we  will  be  able  to  discover  alike  in  his  life 
and  writings  a  consistency  as  complete  as  comports  with 
human  frailty. 

As  an  idealist  he  stands  without  a  superior,  perhaps 
without  an  equal,  in  all  history ;  and  his  creative  fac- 
ulty was  marvellous  not  only  for  its  strength  but  its 
strangeness.  The  phantoms  of  his  thought  were  often 
such  weird  ghosts  and  so  sharply  outlined,  he  fled  from 
them  in  the  wildest  terror,  convinced  that  they  were  fixed 
facts  outside  the  brain  rather  than  flitting  fancies  within 
it.  The  earliest  recollections  of  his  boyhood  are  full  of 
this  trait.  The  ceiling  of  a  certain  low  passage  in  the  old 
homestead  was  riddled  with  holes  by  the  stick  of  this 
little  mischief  in  search  of»some  new  chamber  where  the 
strange  folk  of  his  fancy  might  find  suitable  apartments. 
The  boy  used  to  gather  his  sisters  about  him  when  they 


SHELLEY.  257 

were  but  wee  things,  and  hold  them  in  rapt  attention  with 
his  impromptu  tales  of  fairy  wonder.  They  were  told 
that  the  deserted  garret  was  the  laboratory  of  an  al- 
chemist who  had  been  living  up  there  alone  so  long, 
busily  bending  over  his  retort  and  crucible,  that  his 
beard  had  turned  white  and  the  world  had  forgotten 
him.  They  waited  with  all  the  confidence  and  keen 
anticipation  of  young  life  for  that  promised  "some  day" 
when  they  should  visit  him,  and  perhaps  take  a  sip  of 
his  elixir  or  fill  their  hands  with  gold  he  was  then 
learning  to  make.  All  the  queer  noises  about  the 
premises  were  distinctly  traced  to  the  great  tortoise  in 
AVarnham  Pond.  The  myth  of  the  old  snake  that 
haunted  the  garden  for  upwards  of  three  centuries  till 
carelessly  cut  in  two  by  the  scythe  of  the  gardener  re- 
ceived as  grave  a  rehearsal  as  if  it  had  been  an  historical 
fact.  By  the  magic  of  grotesque  costumes  he  would 
change  his  sisters  into  ghosts' and  hobgoblins,  then  with 
them  marching  behind  him  would  wave  a  fire-pan  over 
his  head  with  flames  bursting  dangerously  from  every 
crevice,  himself  the  arch-fiend  breathing  forth  the  fire 
and  smoke  of  the  pit.  He  was  accustomed  to  frequent 
the  charnel-house  of  Warnham  church,  and  await  the 
return  of  lonesome  spirits  to  look  in  upon  the  crumbling 
dust  they  once  tenanted.  These  visits  were  by  no 
means  without  fear,  but  the  fancy  of  falling  in  with 
such  strange  company  fairly  infatuated  him.  When  a 
school-boy  at  Eton  he  was  known  time  and  again  to 
steal  out  of  his  boarding-house  with  all  possible  secrecy 
and  cross  the  fields  at  the  dead  hours  of  night  until  he 
reached  some  running  stream,  then,  standing  astride  it, 
three  times  to  drink  of  its  waters  out  of  a  human  skull, 


258  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   qUESTIONS. 

in  hopes  through  such  incantations,  taught  him  by  his 
glamour  books,  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  devil  and  per- 
haps pass  a  word  with  him. 

The  incredible  quickness  with  which  he  mastered  his 
studies  left  him  abundant  leisure  to  give  loose  rein  to 
his  unpractised  fancies,  and  they  soon  whirled  him  along 
at  perilous  speed.  Diffidence,  acute  sensibility,  love  of 
study,  with  lack  of  robust  health,  totally  unfitting  him 
for  social  excitements,  he  naturally  at  the  first  attempted 
to  repair  the  loss  with  the  haunted  castles  and  the  ban- 
dits of  the  story-books  that  came  within  his  reach.  The 
Terrific,  in  all  its  indefinable  forms,  vague  hints  of  that 
dim  borderland  of  mystery  that  lies  just  beyond  the 
real  and  the  seen,  seemed  to  weave  a  spell  over  his  tur- 
bulent spirits.  In  his  night  rambles  he  sought  out  un- 
frequented places,  attended  only  by  such  wraiths  and 
apparitions  of  the  imagination  as  the  genius  of  a  Cole- 
ridge, a  De  Quincey,  and  a  Poe  has  made  imperishable. 
The  few  fragments  that  have  floated  down  to  us  of  the 
poems  and  prose  fictions  that  he  wrote  in  the  dark  days 
at  Eton  bear  unmistakable  impress  of  the  morbid  in- 
tensity and  dangerous  leanings  of  his  mind;  while 
through  their  crudities  at  times  break  prophetic  gleams 
of  that  sublimation  of  thought  and  marvellous  splendor 
of  diction  that  characterized  his  later  works. 

His  brain  and  his  nervous  system  were  of  the  most 
delicate  texture.  The  microscopic  machinery  of  that 
butterfly  to  which  Hawthorne's  "Artist  of  the  Beau- 
tiful" gave  a  momentary  mimic  life  was  not  less  suited 
to  the  world's  unthinking  baby-clutch.  They  both 
ought  to  have  been  kept  under  glass.  In  one  of  his 
letters  he  remarked,  "  My  feelings  at  intervals  are  of  a 


SHELLEY.  259 

deadly,  torpid  kind,  or  awakened  to  such  an  unnatu- 
rally keen  excitement  that,  to  instance  only  the  organ  of 
sight,  I  find  the  very  blades  of  grass  and  the  boughs  of 
distant  trees  to  present  themselves  to  me  with  painful 
distinctness."  Grating  sounds  gave  him  positive  tor- 
ture. An  amusing  instance  is  related  of  him,  illus- 
trating this.  Christie,  an  untidy  Caledonian  girl,  was 
servant  in  the  house  in  which  he  and  his  first  wife  were 
once  boarding.  Some  of  his  friends,  knowing  his  weak- 
ness and  fond  of  a  joke,  would  draw  the  girl  into  con- 
versation that  they  might  see  Shelley  writhe  under  the 
sound  of  her  harsh  voice.  "  Have  you  had  any  dinner 
to-day ."  "Yes."  "  And  what  did  you  get  ?"  "Sauget 
heed  and  bannocks,"  would  be  her  invariable  piping 
reply.  The  poet,  almost  distracted,  would  rush  into 
the  corner  and  stop  his  ears.  "  Oh,  Bysshe,  how  can 
you  be  so  absurd  ?  what  harm  does  the  poor  girl  do 
you  ?"  "  Send  her  away,  Harriet,"  he  would  gasp ; 
"  oh,  send  her  away !  for  God's  sake,  send  her  away  !" 
How  vividly  these  facts  revive  Poe's  picture  of  that 
remarkable  recluse  who  played  so  tragic  a  part  in  "The 
Fall  of  the  House  of  Usher" !  Occasionally  Shelley 
fell  a  victim  to  somnambulism,  and  there  was  a  sort  of 
waking  dream  in  which  he  often  lay  wrapped.  He 
would  start  from  its  spell  trembling  like  an  aspen-leaf. 
His  eyes  would  flash  and  his  thoughts  grow  strange  and 
spiritual.  This  was  no  nightmare.  It  was  no  ordinary 
fit  of  abstraction.  It  was  that  dangerous  ecstasy  when 
the  impatient  soul  steps  upon  the  threshold  of  its  tene- 
ment of  clay  and  thinks  of  flight. 

There  is  a  prose  fragment  of  his  in  which  he  describes 
a  by  no  means  extraordinary  scene.     At  the  close  he 


260  VIEWS  ON    VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

says,  "I  suddenly  remembered  to  have  observed  this 
exact  scene  in  some  dream  of  long  ago.  Here  I  was 
obliged  to  leave  off,  overcome  with  thrilling  horror." 
"  I  well  remember,"  remarks  Mrs.  Shelley,  "  his  coming 
to  me  from  writing  this,  pale  and  agitated,  to  seek 
refuge  in  conversation  from  the  fearful  emotions  it 
excited."  While  in  Italy,  near  the  close  of  his  life,  he 
was  one  evening  walking  with  his  friend  Williams  along 
the  terrace,  watching  the  play  of  the  moonbeams  on  the 
water.  Complaining  of  unusual  nervousness,  he  sud- 
denly and  with  great  violence  grasped  the  arm  of  his 
friend,  and  fixed  his  eyes  in  a  wild,  frantic  stare  on  the 
white  surf  that  broke  at  their  feet.  Williams,  seeing 
him  thus  agitated,  asked  whether  he  was  in  pain,  but 
he  only  answered,  "  There  it  is  again  ! — there !"  After 
the  paroxysm  had  passed,  he  stated  that  a  naked  child 
had  just  risen  from  the  sea,  smiling  and  clapping  his 
little  hands  at  him.  The  vision  of  this  trance  was  so 
intensely  vivid,  it  required  no  little  philosophical  argu- 
ment on  the  part  of  his  friend  to  convince  him  it  was 
only  a  dream,  and  to  call  his  crazed  thoughts  back  to  the 
sad  reality  that  his  dear  boy  lay  under  the  daisies  still. 
Once  Byron,  Shelley,  Monk  Lewis,  and  the  ladies  of 
their  households  were  accustomed,  under  Lewis's  lead- 
ership, to  spend  their  evenings  in  telling  ghost-stories. 
The  fictions  were  not  only  original,  but  impromptu. 
They  were  meant  but  for  mental  gymnastics,  simply  to 
serve  as  wings  for  the  hours.  It  was  a  brilliant  circle, 
and  out  of  the  murky  atmosphere  of  these  talks  there 
came  to  Mrs.  Shelley  the  first  hints  of  her  famed 
"  Frankenstein."  As  might  have  been  anticipated, 
Shelley's  fancy  finally  fired,  and  before  its  fierce  heat 


SHELLEY.  261 

his  reason  melted  away  like  wax.  It  is  told  us  that  on 
one  of  these  occasions  he  began  a  story,  but  was  soon 
compelled  to  stop  and  hasten  from  the  room.  One  or 
two  of  the  company  followed  him  out,  and  found  him 
in  an  almost  complete  nervous  prostration.  After  he 
had  somewhat  recovered,  he  said  to  them  that  a  most 
beautiful  woman  had  appeared  to  him,  leaning  over  the 
balustrade  of  the  staircase  and  fixing  upon  him  four 
flashing  eyes.  As  some  one  has  suggested,  his  mind 
was  of  such  exquisite  delicacy  it  seemed  throned  on  the 
very  pinnacle  of  genius,  where  but  a  breath  might  pre- 
cipitate its  fall. 

He  was  doubtless  the  victim  of  hallucination  when 
in  North  Wales  he  thought  a  night  tramp  had  fired  at 
him.  He  kept  the  house  in  an  uproar  until  morning. 
On  the  next  day  he  even  went  so  far  as  to  furnish  the 
officers  of  the  law  a  sworn  statement  of  the  case,  gravely 
detailing  many  particulars,  and  as  soon  as  it  was  pos- 
sible fled  the  country.  In  his  correspondence  with 
William  Godwin  we  find  him  claiming  that  he  had 
been  twice  expelled  from  Eton  on  account  of  the  ad- 
vocacy of  his  beliefs.  The  story  was  utterly  false ;  but 
I  see  no  reason  for  charging  him  with  intentional  false- 
hood, as  has  been  done,  for  he  was  proverbially  truth- 
loving,  standing  ready  even  to  suffer  martyrdom  for  its 
sake.  We  have  seen  with  what  readiness  and  frequency 
he  converted  his  intensely  vivid  fancies  into  accredited 
facts.  It  was  perfectly  natural  for  this  strangely-gifted 
boy  to  first  imagine  himself  a  bold  defender  of  his 
beliefs  and  visited  with  the  wrath  of  the  bigots,  then 
afterward  to  look  upon  his  visions  as  memories  of  what 
had  actually  occurred. 


262  VIEWS  ON    VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

As  a  writer  he  stands  without  a  rival  in  his  power  to 
impersonate  thought.  The  multitudinous  gods  of  an- 
cient mythology,  which  were  the  creations  of  long  cen- 
turies of  misguided  worship,  scarcely  outnumbered  that 
vast  company  of  intelligences  with  which  his  fruitful 
fancy  peopled  the  universe.  Everything  as  it  passed 
through  the  alembic  of  his  mind  was  refined  into  a 
splendid  ideal.  The  material  stood  to  him  but  as  a 
manifestation  of  the  spiritual.  Not  only  the  forces  in 
nature,  but  even  the  most  subtile  metaphysical  discrim- 
inations, became  palpable  personages  before  him.  On 
every  page  of  his  principal  poems,  except  the  "  Cenci," 
in  almost  every  line,  they  start  into  life.  In  the 
"  Witch  of  Atlas/7  in  "  Adonais,"  and  in  the  last  acts 
of  "Prometheus  Unbound,"  his  creative  powers  seemed 
to  culminate.  To  the  many  these  Alpine  peaks  of  song 
are  lost  in  cloud.  Few  have  ever  climbed  their  dizzy 
heights ;  none  have  ever  seemed  able  to  live  long  in 
their  thin  air.  I  had  designed  to  transmit  to  my  page 
some  of  their  marvellous  creations,  but  on  making  the 
attempt  I  found  them  dissolving  at  my  touch  like  crys- 
tals of  frost-work. 

Byron  pronounced  him  the  most  imaginative  writer 
of  his  time,  and  this  criticism  acquires  peculiar  em- 
phasis from  the  fact  that  Shelley  was  the  cotemporary 
of  the  Lake  poets.  Macaulay  asserts  that  inspiration 
can  be  more  safely  affirmed  of  him  than  of  any  other 
English  author.  His  mind,  while  he  was  engaged  in 
composition,  boiled  like  a  caldron.  So  great  was  the 
intensity  with  which  it  wrought,  his  body  shook  as  in 
an  ague-fit.  Bayne,  the  Scotch  critic,  claimed  that  his 
was  the  princeliest  imagination  that  ever  sublimed  en- 


SHELLEY.  263 

thusiasra  or  personated  thought.  Gilfillan  called  him 
the  Eternal  Child,  and  Mrs.  Browning  alluded  to  him 
in  her  "  Vision  of  the  Poets/7  and  her  words  are  preg- 
nant with  meaning,  as  one  "  statue-blind  with  his  white 
ideal."  Shelley  lived  in  perpetual  childhood.  Its  life- 
like illusions  seemed  woven  into  the  very  texture  of  his 
brain.  Neither  his  face  nor  his  faculties  ever  grew  old. 
His  kingdom  was  cloud-land.  He  was  a  stranger,  ill 
at  ease,  in  any  other. 

We  now  pass  to  the  consideration  of  his  second 
marked  characteristic,  his  individualism.  Scientists 
have  discovered  a  single  plan  underlying  nature,  cer- 
tain fundamental  ideas  or  great  types  introducing  order 
and  unity  everywhere ;  so  that  now  in  their  text-books 
they  go  back  through  individuals,  species,  genera,  or- 
ders, to  the  first  great  classes  of  creation.  This  methodic 
development,  this  prevalence  of  law,  they  have  found 
even  in  the  subtilest  of  human  thought.  But  they  have 
further  discovered  that  creation  was  not  the  work  of  an 
instant,  but  the  evolution  of  ages ;  that  an  impulse  or 
a  series  of  impulses  toward  heterogeneity  has  been  im- 
parted to  all  things,  unfolding  from  this  initial  unity 
an  infinite  variety,  rendering  life-forms  continually 
more  complex,  from  the  monad  up  to  man.  The  vigor 
of  this  impulse  still  remains  unabated ;  for  through  it 
comes  that  individualism  in  whose  healthful  develop- 
ment, and  in  that  alone,  this  broad  plan  in  nature  reaches 
final  consummation.  In  the  present  stage  of  advance- 
ment, although  there  are  no  two  men  who  exactly  re- 
semble each  other,  who  have  no  distinguishing  personal 
traits,  yet,  with  the  majority,  points  of  resemblance 
rather  than  of  difference  predominate.  Out  from  these 


264  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    qUESTIONS. 

mainly  homogeneous  masses,  however,  there  now  and 
then  appears  one  of  overmastering  individualism,  break- 
ing through  the  conventional  crusts  that  have  gathered 
upon  human  thought.  They  are  the  revolutionists  God 
lets  loose  on  the  planet.  They  usually  come  with  super- 
abundant personal  positiveness  and  singularity.  Were 
it  not  so,  I  question  whether  they  could  command  a 
hearing.  Not  only  must  their  personal  tastes  and  opin- 
ions be  unique,  but  there  must  be  an  implicit  faith  in 
their  soundness,  an  exalted  view  of  their  value,  above 
all  an  inward,  irrepressible  impulse  to  state  and  stand 
by  them  at  every  hazard.  This  impulse  must  be  of 
such  a  character  that  opposing  prejudices  will  but  fan 
it  to  fiercer  heat.-  Only  those  thus  possessed  have  ever 
met  success,  or  ever  can.  Others  endure  for  a  time,  but 
at  last  sink  down  among  the  undistinguishable  atoms 
of  the  mass.  With  this  individualism  Shelley  came 
surcharged,  so  that  when  society  used  harsh  means  to 
repress  it,  it  found  an  infuriated  tiger  upon  its  track. 

When  a  beautiful,  bright  boy,  eager  to  know,  sym- 
pathetic, sincere,  quivering  with  acute  sensibility,  his 
head  already  in  the  clouds,  his  health  by  no  means 
firm,  he  was  thrown  in  among  a  wild  troop  of  school- 
fellows at  Eton.  In  English  schools  a  pernicious  cus- 
tom then  prevailed  of  forcing  members  of  the  lower 
class  to  perform  menial  services  for  those  in  the  higher. 
Fagging,  as  it  was  called,  had  grown  into  a  system  of 
petty  tyrannies.  Readers  of  "  Tom  Brown  at  Rugby" 
will  readily  recall  Hughes's  spirited  sketch  of  his  hero's 
gritty  fight  with  an  insolent  chap  in  the  fifth  form,  who 
had  presumed  too  much  under  cover  of  this  custom. 
Shelley,  when  called  upon  to  fag,  peremptorily  refused, 


SHELLEY.  265 

not  because  he  was  averse  to  labor,  nor  because  his 
father  was  a  baronet,  but  he  looked  upon  the  demand 
as  an  invasion  of  his  personal  rights.  Then  they  tried 
what  virtue  lay  in  cuffs  and  taunts.  Instead  of  break- 
ing his  spirit,  they  kindled  it  into  fury.  Those  brag- 
garts turned  pale  and  grew  weak  with  fear  before  his 
bursts  of  passion.  The  war  extended  over  many 
months  and  numbered  many  battles ;  but  he  conquered 
at  last,  though  the  bitter  experiences  of  those  days,  his 
loneliness  and  sense  of  wrong,  burnt  into  his  soul  like  a 
hot  iron.  His  touching  lines  at  the  opening  of  "  The 
Revolt  of  Islam"  tell  us  that  twelve  years  afterward  this 
wound  was  still  painful  and  bleeding.  An  old  Etonian 
remarks,  "For  years  before  I  knew  that  Shelley  the 
boy  was  Shelley  the  poet  and  friend  of  Byron,  he  dwelt 
in  my  memory  as  one  of  those  strange,  unearthly  com- 
pounds which  sometimes,  though  rarely,  appear  in 
human  form.  He  was  known  at  Eton  as  the  mad 
Shelley.  Sometimes  his  rage  at  their  taunts  became 
boundless.  They  fairly  raised  the  demon  in  him.  I 
have  seen  him  surrounded,  hooted,  baited,  like  an  en- 
raged bull,  and  at  this  distance  of  time — forty  years 
after — I  seem  to  hear  ringing  in  my  ears  the  cry  which 
Shelley  was  wont  to  utter  in  his  paroxysms  of  anger." 
When  a  student  at  Oxford,  he  unfortunately  fell 
into  the  hands  of  English  and  French  atheists,  who 
stripped  him  of  nearly  every  opinion  of  value.  That 
Shelley  could  have  become  a  convert  to  creeds  so  cold, 
so  humiliating,  so  abandoned  of  hope,  strikes  one  at 
first  as  a  mental  impossibility.  The  natural  temper  of 
his  mind  was,  as  we  have  seen,  profoundly  idealistic, 
his  thoughts  revelling  in  the  unseen.  Rarely  one  ever 


266  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

evinced  such  capacity  for  companionship ;  none  ever 
more  intensely  longed  for  it.  Dulness  and  brutality 
had  already  driven  him  into  social  exile,  so  that  almost 
the  only  avenue  to  sympathy  left  him  lay  through  this, 
his  wonderful  gift  of  spiritual  perception.  In  what 
especial  need,  then,  he  stood  of  some  comforting  con- 
sciousness of  the  presence  of  angels  and  the  kindly 
overshadowing  of  the  Divine  love !  He  also  had  the 
credit  of  sharp  discrimination.  His  writings  every- 
where abound  in  delicate  shades  of  thought.  He  un- 
doubtedly possessed  a  taste  for  abstruse  reasoning,  for 
he  once  seriously  debated  whether  he  should  not  adopt 
metaphysics  for  a  life-study. 

Hogg,  his  college  companion,  attempting  an  expla- 
nation, oifers  two  suggestions:  first,  that  scepticism, 
seemingly  uncongenial  to  one  of  fervid  imagination, 
had  attractions  for  him  perhaps  from  the  fact  that  he 
took  such  keen  pleasure  in  discussion  and  found  in  this 
so  admirable  a  position  for  defensive  warfare ;  second, 
that  destruction,  if  on  a  grand  scale,  is  as  fascinating  as 
creation  to  one  loving  excitement  and  change.  I  can- 
not take  so  low  a  view  of  Shelley  as  to  feel  satisfied 
with  this  solution.  There  is  no  doubt  that  he  loved 
disputation,  and  that  he  loved  excitement  and  change ; 
but  he  loved  truth  more.  He  was  of  too  sad  and  earn- 
est a  temperament  to  argue  against  his  own  convictions. 
His  afterward  life-long  loyalty  to  them  proved  him  no 
trifler.  The  growth  and  gradual  settling  of  his  beliefs 
speak  volumes  for  his  mental  integrity.  To  lean  Sam- 
son-like against  the  pillars  upon  which  rests  the  world's 
religion,  that  he  might  for  an  instant  hear  the  crash  of 
falling  timbers,  would  indicate  a  curious  love  of  excite- 


SHELLEY.  267 

ment  in  one  conscious  that  his  own  hopes  as  well  as 
those  of  others  must  lie  buried  in  the  ruins. 

Coleridge's  thoughts  went  deeper.  In  a  letter  to  a 
friend  he  remarked,  "  I  think  as  highly  of  Shelley's 
genius,  yes,  and  of  his  heart,  as  you  can  do.  Soon  after 
he  left  Oxford  he  went  to  the  Lakes,  poor  fellow,  and 
with  some  wish,  I  have  understood,  to  see  me ;  but  I 
was  absent,  and  Southey  received  him  instead.  Now, 
the  very  reverse  of  what  would  have  been  the  case  in 
ninety-nine  instances  of  a  hundred,  I  might  have  been 
of  use  to  him  and  Southey  could  not ;  for  I  should  have 
sympathized  with  his  poetic,  metaphysical  reveries, 
and  the  very  word  metaphysics  is  an  abomination  to 
Southey,  and  Shelley  would  have  felt  that  I  understood 
him.  His  discussions  tending  toward  atheism  would 
not  have  scared  me ;  for  me  it  would  have  been  a  semi- 
transparent  larva,  soon  to  be  sloughed,  and  through 
which  I  should  have  seen  the  true  imago,  the  final 
metamorphosis.  Besides,  I  have  ever  thought  that  sort 
of  atheism  the  next  best  religion  to  Christianity ;  nor 
does  the  better  faith  I  have  learnt  from  Paul  and  John 
interfere  with  the  cordial  reverence  I  feel  for  Benedict 
Spinoza.  As  far  as  Robert  Southey  was  concerned,  I 
am  quite  certain  that  his  harshness  arose  entirely  from 
the  frightful  reports  that  had  been  made  to  him  re- 
specting Shelley's  moral  character  and  conduct, — re- 
ports essentially  false,  but,  for  a  man  of  Southey's 
strict  regularity  and  habitual  self-government,  rendered 
plausible  by  Shelley's  own  wild  words  and  horror  of 
hypocrisy." 

But,  explain  his  conversion  and  profoundly  regret  it 
as  we  may,  his  course  afterward  was  not  only  highly 


268  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

characteristic,  brimful  of  individualism,  but  was 
prompted  by  motives  from  which  it  is  impossible  for 
us  to  withhold  our  praise.  As  soon  as  he  had  given 
his  assent  to  the  creed  of  the  atheists,  he  resolved  on 
the  overturn  of  the  entire  Christian  world,  and  even 
hoped  for  it.  Of  course  only  a  boy  in  his  teens,  and  a 
boy,  too,  with  his  peculiar  combination  of  qualities, 
could  have  conceived  of  such  a  Quixotic  scheme,  or 
have  entertained  it  for  an  instant.  He  began  his  work 
as  a  propagandist  with  the  issue  of  a  two-paged  pam- 
phlet on  the  "  Necessity  of  Atheism,"  sending  a  copy 
with  a  circular  letter  to  the  twenty-five  heads  of  colleges 
at  Oxford,  asking  their  assent  to  its  sentiments.  Those 
grave  scholastic  dignitaries  replied  by  ordering  his  instant 
expulsion.  Perhaps  they  meant  well,  but  their  conduct 
was  certainly  inexcusably  inconsiderate.  It  was  in  great 
part  the  result  of  that  revulsion  of  feeling  that  had 
swept  over  Europe  at  the  close  of  the  French  Revolu- 
tion. The  curdling  horrors  of  that  reign  of  license 
and  irreligion  had  caused  an  indescribable  dread  to 
creep  into  the  public  mind.  A  severe  censorship,  in 
consequence,  rested  on  platform  and  press.  We  have 
since  discovered  that  this  stifling  process  was  the  very 
cause  of  the  evils  it  now  sought  to  avert.  Had  one  of 
those  panic-stricken  professors  taken  the  pains  to  visit 
Shelley  in  private,  considerately  listened  to  his  objec- 
tions to  Christianity,  and  met  them  with  the  proofs,  as 
Coleridge  would  have  done,  he  would  have  found  in 
him  an  apt  and  candid  scholar,  and  without  much 
question  would  have  won  over  to  his  cause  an  earnest 
and  able  advocate.  None  was  ever  more  open  to  convic- 
tion. He  craved  knowledge,  was  of  reflective  habit. 


SHELLEY.  269 

His  intellect  was  marked  alike  for  its  strength,  its  com- 
pass, and  its  integrity.  Though  of  deep  convictions, 
his  restless  spirit  of  inquiry  always  saved  him  from 
becoming  opinionated.  He  strongly  inclined  to  re- 
ligious thinking.  Indeed,  what  Novalis  once  remarked 
of  Spinoza,  that  branded  atheist,  who  so  deeply  im- 
pressed him  with  his  religious  fervor,  I  believe  was 
equally  true  of  Shelley.  He  was  "  God-intoxicated." 
To  know  truth  and  fearlessly  to  use  it,  had  grown  into 
an  enthusiasm ;  and  that  very  act  which  called  down 
on  him  such  wrathful  lightnings  was  one  of  its  unmis- 
takable signs. 

To  none  would  an  appreciative  sympathy  have  been 
more  welcome ;  upon  none  would  it  have  wrought  greater 
good.  That  his  life  had  been  singularly  pure,  even  his 
bitterest  enemies  durst  not  deny.  Being  still  very 
young,  only  eighteen,  of  slight  experience,  with  an 
immature  judgment,  with  no  fixed  habits  of  thought, 
radical  changes  might  readily  have  been  wrought  in  his 
beliefs.  Nothing  but  excessive  fright  could  have  in- 
duced these  learned  men  of  Oxford  to  let  slip  this 
golden  opportunity.  They  must  have  adjudged  him 
smitten  with  incurable  leprosy,  to  have  thrust  him 
out  with  such  cruel  haste,  branding  him  with  all  the 
ignominy  that  lay  within  the  bestowal  of  one  of  the 
most  powerful  corporations  of  learning  in  the  world. 
A  German  university  would  have  taken  up  the  gaunt- 
let which  Shelley  thus  threw  down,  and  not  have  suf- 
fered his  belief  in  the  impregnability  of  his  position  to 
become  confirmed  by  so  cowardly  an  answer  as  he  here 
received. 

The  boy,  thus  rudely  rebuffed,  sought  an  asylum  in 


270  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

his  father's  house,  and  should  have  found  one.  But 
the  cold  formalist,  mainly  interested  in  keeping  the 
outside  of  the  platter  clean,  sternly  rebuked  him,  giv- 
ing him  to  understand  that  unless  he  conformed  to  the 
religious  usages  of  the  family  he  must  never  again  step 
foot  on  his  threshold.  Shelley,  loyal  to  his  convic- 
tions, promptly  refused,  although  he  knew  that  dis- 
grace and  poverty  would  join  him  company.  If  the 
doctors  blundered,  the  father  surely  fell  into  crime. 
Granting  that  the  boy  was  the  most  impracticable  of 
dreamers,  and  that  had  his  dreams  come  true  the  moral 
world  would  have  passed  into  eclipse,  yet  the  fact 
that  he  was  a  mere  boy,  and  nobly  aimed  at  benefiting 
his  age,  should  have  summoned  to  his  side  the  kind- 
liest influences  of  home.  Yet  he  was  left  upon  the 
streets  of  London,  to  battle  single-handed  as  best  he 
could.  It  was  a  sad  sight. 

Shelley's  individualism,  already  strongly  marked, 
now  passed  at  once  into  blind  frenzy.  Indeed,  it  would 
seem  that  he  never  afterward  fully  recovered  his  right 
reason.  "Queen  Mab,"  begun  a  year  and  a  half  be- 
fore as  a  purely  imaginative  poem  on  dreams,  he  at 
once  converted  into  a  systematic  attack  on  society, 
doubling  its  length  and  appending  to  it  elaborate  notes, 
in  which  whatever  law  or  custom  tended  in  the  least 
to  restrain  the  fullest  personal  freedom  was  passion- 
ately condemned  as  tyrannical.  This  delicately-nerved 
dream-creature,  thus  trampled  on  by  professing  Chris- 
tians, tortured  but  not  tamed,  learns  to  regard  Chris- 
tianity as  the  foster-mother  of  crime,  an  organized 
oppression  drenching  the  earth  with  the  blood  of  inno- 
cency.  Obedience  to  God  he  pronounces  the  servility 


SHELLEY.  271 

a  trembling  slave  pays  a  tyrant.  As  all  religions 
threaten  punishment  for  disbelief,  a  purely  involuntary 
act,  they,  he  claims,  should  all  alike  pass  under  con- 
demnation. There  is  no  personal  Creator.  Vulgar 
minds  had  mistaken  a  metaphor  for  a  real  being,  a 
word  for  a  thing.  There  is  at  best  but  an  impersonal, 
pervading  spirit,  coeternal  with  the  universe.  Ne- 
cessity is  mother  of  the  world,  true  liberty  a  mere 
shadow,  a  myth,  a  fable.  Crime  is  madness,  madness 
a  disease,  disease  the  sole  result  of  meat  diet.  Prome- 
theus chained  to  Caucasus  personates  mankind,  who, 
having  applied  fire  to  culinary  purposes,  or,  in  other 
words,  having  changed  the  character  of  their  food, 
have  become  the  helpless  victims  of  the  vulture  of 
disease.  Wealth  is  a  power  usurped  by  the  few  to 
compel  the  many  to  labor  for  their  benefit.  The  rent- 
rolls  of  landed  proprietors  are  pension-lists,  signs  of 
sinecures,  which  reformers  should  no  longer  suffer  to 
exist.  Laws  which  support  this  system  are  the  result 
of  the  conspiracy  of  a  few,  and  would  be  swept  from 
the  statute-book  were  not  the  masses  ignorant  and 
credulous.  Law  even  pretends  to  control  the  inter- 
course of  the  sexes,  in  face  of  the  fact  that  the  very 
essence  of  love  is  liberty.  Marriage  is  utterly  un- 
worthy of  toleration.  As  well  bind  friends  together  by 
statute  as  man  and  wife.  The  present  system  of  con- 
straint makes  hypocrites  or  open  foes  out  of  the  ma- 
jority of  those  thus  bound.  "In  fact,  religion  and 
morality,  as  they  now  stand,  compose  a  practical  code 
of  misery  and  servitude ;  the  genius  of  human  happi- 
ness must  tear  every  leaf  from  the  accursed  Book  of 
God,  ere  man  can  read  the  inscription  on  his  heart. 


272  VIEWS  ON    VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

How  would  morality,  dressed  up  in  stiff  stays  and 
finery,  start  from  her  own  disgusting  image,  should 
she  look  in  the  mirror  of  nature !" 

Thus  we  see  Shelley  pouring  out  invectives  against 
every  form  of  religious  faith,  against  every  safeguard 
to  property  or  pure  morals, — an  indiscriminate  icono- 
clast, an  agrarian,  a  free-lover,  a  fierce  foe  to  all  present 
forms  of  social  order. 

His  mind  cooled  somewhat  in  after-years,  as  his  life 
grew  more  tranquil.  Some  of  his  views  he  modified ; 
some,  totally  changed ;  some,  however,  he  carried  into 
practice  and  tenaciously  maintained  until  death.  He 
lived  to  advance  as  far  as  the  Unitarian  creed,  and  to 
be  a  firm  believer  in  immortality.  Such  was  the  drift 
of  his  thought,  such  his  increasing  study  of  the  Scrip- 
tures and  unfeigned  love  for  them,  his  natural  candor, 
his  tireless  search  for  truth,  his  profound  respect  for  the 
character  of  Christ,  it  is  by  no  means  improbable  that 
had  a  few  more  years  been  spared  him,  and  they 
warmed  and  lighted  by  sympathizing  hearts,  his  re- 
spect would  have  turned  to  love,  perhaps  to  adoration. 

His  opinion  of  marriage  underwent  little  change. 
Had  he  followed  his  own  inclinations,  he  would  have 
lived  with  both  Harriet  and  Mary  without  its  sanction, 
utterly  regardless  of  the  world's  opinion.  He  con- 
sented to  its  rites,  not  because  he  quailed  before  the 
approaching  storm  of  calumny,  but  because  principally 
upon  them,  being  the  weaker  party,  it  would  spend  its 
violence.  Even  as  it  was,  he  and  Mary  lived  together 
a  full  year  without  it,  before  Harriet's  suicide  secured 
him  the  divorce  refused  by  English  law.  Shelley's 
idealism  and  individualism,  originally  given  in  such 


SHELLEY.  273 

large  measure,  now  almost  preternaiu rally  developed, 
render  it  possible,  in  my  judgment,  for  Shelley  to  have 
been  prompted  by  the  purest  motives  in  both  the  ad- 
vocacy and  practice  of  principles  which,  if  generally 
adopted,  would  have  corrupted  and  finally  overturned 
society. 

I  now  pass  to  his  third  most  noticeable  trait, — his 
enthusiasm.  In  this,  too,  from  the  first  he  stood  pre- 
eminent ;  and  in  this,  I  regret  to  add,  there  soon 
appeared  symptoms  of  disease. 

The  instances  in  his  life  which  I  have  already  given 
under  other  heads  equally. illustrate  the  intensity  of  his 
temperament ;  and  so  intimately  is  it  also  associated 
with  his  capacities  to  love  and  hope,  that  it  will  again 
appear  when  I  treat  those  divisions  of  my  theme.  But 
there  are  certain  phases  demanding  a  more  special 
notice,  and  to  them  I  now  briefly  direct  attention. 

His  passion  for  boating  was  very  remarkable.  It 
was  as  impelling  and  as  indestructible  as  any  instinct 
of  bee  or  beaver.  It  appeared  first  in  the  making 
and  floating  of  paper  boats.  Whenever  he  approached 
any  little  pond  in  his  rambles,  he  would  linger  about 
its  margin  by  the  hour,  held  as  by  the  spell  of  enchant- 
ment. The  keen  wind  sweeping  across  the  common 
would  cut  his  delicate  face  and  hands,  and  cause  his 
frail  body  to  tremble  with  the  cold ;  but  with  thoughts 
undiverted  he  would  keep  on  twisting  his  bits  of  paper 
into  tiny  crafts.  These  as  fast  as  finished  he  would 
launch,  watching  them  with  absorbing  interest  as  they 
drifted  away  until  they  either  capsized,  or  sank  water- 
soaked,  or  safely  landed  on  the  opposite  shore,  his  ima- 
gination meantime  transforming  the  pond  into  a  rough 

13 


274  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

rolling  sea,  and  his  bits  of  paper  into  stately  ships 
wrestling  with  tempests  or  dashing  upon  rocks,  or  safely 
riding  at  anchor  at  last  in  the  offing  of  some  foreign 
port.  He  always  had  one  or  more  books  in  his  pocket; 
and,  however  expensive  the  volume,  its  fly-leaves,  al- 
though he  never  disturbed  the  text,  were  prized  only 
as  excellent  ship-timber;  and  it  was  utterly  impossi- 
ble to  entice  him  from  the  spot  so  long  as  there  was 
an  available  scrap  of  paper  about  his  person.  While 
residing  at  Bracknell  he  found  a  whimsical  gratification 
for  this  mania  for  navigation, — secretly  setting  sail  on 
a  stream  near  by  in  one  of  the  tubs  of  his  hostess.  Its 
bottom  falling  out,  he  launched  a  second,  but,  this 
meeting  a  similar  fate,  a  third  was  launched  from  its 
ways  in  dry-dock,  until  there  was  not  a  single  one  left. 
Washing-day  came.  A  search  was  made  for  the  missing 
tubs,  but  in  vain,  for  this  strange  mischief-maker  had 
disappeared  as  well  as  his  strange  fleet. 

A  large  portion  of  his  life  he  spent  on  the  water. 
There  he  found  health,  and  freedom,  and  lightness  of 
heart,  and  mental  exaltation.  His  poems  abound  in 
river-scenes,  and  scenes  on  the  sea;  some  of  exceeding 
wildness,  as  in  "Alastor;"  some,  as  in  "The  Witch  of 
Atlas,"  bathed  in  a  beauty  so  ethereal  it  would  seem  that 
the  artist,  in  some  privileged  hour  of  inspiration,  had 
dipped  his  brush  in  the  light  of  other  worlds.  "  The 
Revolt  of  Islam/'  one  of  the  most  elaborate  of  his 
poems,  he  composed  as  he  floated  a  half-year  alone  in 
his  skiff  on  the  Thames,  reclining  under  alder-  and 
willow-fringed  banks,  or  taking  refuge  at  noonday  on 
some  of  the  little  islands  that  had  until  then  nestled 
unnoticed  in  the  lap  of  the  river.  Frequently  he 


SHELLEY.  275 

would  spend  whole  nights  in  his  boat.  This  passion, 
however,  proved  fatal  at  last ;  for  Shelley,  having  set 
sail  from  Leghorn  for  Lerici  on  his  way  to  welcome 
Leigh  Hunt  to  Italy,  accompanied  only  by  a  single 
friend  and  a  sailor-boy,  was  overtaken  by  a  sudden 
squall  which  whipped  the  waters  into  fury,  and  the 
little  skin0  so  preciously  freighted  soon  fell  an  easy  prey 
to  the  hungry  sea. 

In  conversation  he  was  remarked  for  his  impetuosity. 
There  was  a  sort  of  contagious  eagerness,  an  animation, 
at  times  a  wild  rapture,  in  his  talk.  Among  congenial 
friends  he  knew  no  reserve.  His  inmost  life  lay  bare 
before  them.  Indeed,  had  his  soul  been  cased  in  clear 
crystal  it  could  not  have  been  less  concealed.  His  brain 
seemed  on  fire,  for  his  blue  eyes  would  flash,  his  cheeks 
crimson,  his  whole  body  tremble  with  pent-up  emotions 
struggling  impatiently  for  outlet,  although  his  thoughts 
at  the  time  were  flowing  in  headlong  torrent  from  his 
tongue.  I  speak  without  exaggeration.  It  is  said  that 
man  is  a  microcosm.  If  nature's  volcanic  eruptions, 
with  their  earthquakes  and  hot,  steaming  lava,  ever 
found  their  human  analogies,  it  was  in  some  of  these 
impassioned  outbursts  of  Shelley.  His  readiness  of 
speech  was  equalled  only  by  its  finish  and  fulness. 
He  spoke  with  ease  and  precision  on  the  most  abstruse 
themes.  His  ordinary  conversation  had  a  poetic  flavor 
about  it,  for  nothing  seemed  to  appear  to  him  except  in 
some  singular  and  pleasing  light,  and  his  extremely 
mobile  face  glassed  his  thoughts  as  perfectly  as  does  the 
lake  the  woods  that  border  it,  or  the  clouds  and  birds 
that  float  and  fly  above  its  surface.  Had  he  written  as 
he  talked,  he  would  never  have  lacked  readers.  To  all 


276  VIEWS  ON  VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

this  there  were  added  a  frankness,  a  fearlessness,  and  a 
forgetfulness  of  self  rarely  met  with  in  social  life,  and 
these  are  each  important  avenues  of  communication. 
Such  large  capacity  for  utterance  no  doubt  greatly 
helped  the  combustion  of  his  thought.  Smothered 
flames  die.  To  live  they  must  be  granted  access  to  the 
oxygen  of  the  outer  air. 

When  in  conversation,  so  lost  was  he  to  all  surround- 
ings, so  under  the  sway  of  his  enthusiasm,  that  his  tea, 
of  which  he  was  very  fond  and  drank  largely,  would  go 
dripping  from  his  shaking  hand  down  his  bosom  upon 
his  knees,  into  his  shoes,  on  the  carpet,  and  thus  cup 
would  follow  cup  in  almost  endless  succession.  It  is 
recorded  of  him  that  he  would  frequently  hold  his 
auditors  spell-bound  through  the  entire  night.  Those 
thus  charmed  by  him  would  at  daybreak  start  up  in 
perfect  wonderment  at  the  unconscious  passage  of  the 
hours ;  and  what  is  mysterious  about  it  is,  there  would 
be  left  in  their  memories,  after  the  strange  fascination 
was  ended,  little  else  than  a  vague  sense  of  extreme 
delight,  the  whole  scene  having  vanished  like  the  fabric 
of  a  dream.  There  was  at  times  something  wild  and 
unearthly  in  his  talk,  a  startling  abruptness  in  its  com- 
mencement and  ending ;  so  much  so  that  Mr.  Maddocks 
tells  us  that  he  was  impressed  by  him  as  by  the  coming 
and  going  of  a  spirit. 

In  his  pursuits  as  a  scholar  his  enthusiasm  knew  no 
bounds.  He  always  seemed  to  have  a  book  in  his  hand, 
whether  at  the  table,  on  the  street,  in  the  fields,  or  in 
bed,  drinking  in  its  contents  with  an  avidity  and  a 
quickness  almost  incredible.  It  is  said  of  him  that  he 
could  read  from  six  to  eight  lines  at  a  single  glance. 


SHELLEY.  277 

Although  we  cannot  give  credence  to  this  report,  yet  it 
serves  to  show  that  he  seemed  to  others  to  grasp  thought 
as  by  intuition.  Such  was  his  facility  as  a  linguist,  he 
would  read  the  Greek  philosophers  in  the  original  for 
hours  without  the  use  of  a  lexicon,  and  with  the  French, 
Italian,  and  Spanish  languages  he  was  equally  conver- 
sant. Homer,  one  of  his  favorite  authors,  he  read,  re- 
read, and  read  again,  no  one  knows  how  many  times, 
always  keeping  a  copy  within  reach.  Ariosto  was  also 
to  him  a  fountain  of  perpetual  pleasure.  He  indeed 
approached  the  works  of  all  the  master-minds  of  an- 
tiquity with  a  most  profound  reverence ;  and,  however 
abstruse  and  subtile  their  reasonings,  his  mind  never 
grew  weary,  so  intense  and  so  insatiable  was.liis  desire 
to  discover  truth.  From  a  very  early  age  he  evinced  for 
the  study  of  physics  great  aptitude  and  relish,  and  pur- 
sued it  with  unbounded  ardor.  It  was  not  until  he  had 
entered  Oxford,  had  suffered  from  an  explosion,  had 
taken  arsenic  by  mistake,  and  wellnigh  ruined  his  books, 
his  furniture,  and  his  clothing  with  chemicals,  that  he 
threw  aside  retort  and  test-tube,  and  set  at  work  with 
the  same  characteristic  fervor  to  disentangle  those  end- 
less gossamer  threads  of  thought  metaphysicians  take 
such  delight  in  spinning.  While  thus  engaged,  he 
embraced  among  other  theories  the  Platonic  doctrine  of 
pre-existence.  The  wild  warmth  with  which  he  wel- 
comed his  new  creed  came  out  quaintly  one  day  while 
he  was  passing  along  Magdalen  Bridge.  A  woman  met 
him  with  a  baby  in  her  arms.  He  at  once  dexterously 
snatched  it  from  her,  greatly  alarming  her  by  his  ab- 
ruptness. In  high  tenor  and  with  eager  looks  he  asked, 
"  Will  your  baby  tell  us  anything  about  pre-existence, 


278  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

madam  ?"  At  first  she  made  no  reply,  thinking  him 
insane;  but,  seeing  that  the  queer  man  meant  no  harm, 
and  Shelley  repeating  his  question  with  the  same  vehe- 
mence, she  said,  "  He  can't  speak."  "  Worse  and  worse !" 
cried  Shelley,  greatly  disappointed ;  "  but  surely  the  babe 
can  speak  if  he  will,  for  he  is  only  a  few  weeks  old. 
He  may  fancy  perhaps  that  he  cannot,  but  it  is  only  a 
silly  whim.  He  cannot  have  forgotten  entirely  the  use 
of  speech  in  so  short  a  time :  the  thing  is  absolutely 
impossible."  After  the  answer  of  the  mother  that  she 
had  never  heard  him  speak,  nor  any  one  so  young,  Shel- 
ley patted  the  boy's  cheek,  praised  his  rosy  health,  and 
passed  him  back  to  his  mother,  remarking,  as  he  walked 
away,  "  How  provokingly  close  these  new-born  babes 
are  !  but  it  is  not  the  less  certain,  notwithstanding  their 
cunning  attempts  to  conceal  the  truth,  that  all  knowl- 
edge is  reminiscence.  The  doctrine  is  far  more  ancient 
than  the  times  of  Plato,  and  as  old  as  the  venerable 
allegory  that  the  Muses  are  the  daughters  of  Memory ; 
not  one  of  the  nine  was  ever  said  to  be  the  child  of 
Invention." 

But  we  must  go  to  some  of  those  poems  with  which 
he  has  enriched  our  literature  if  we  would  see  his  en- 
thusiasm at  the  flood, — to  that  drama  of  "  Hellas,"  to 
those  Odes  to  Naples  and  to  Liberty,  to  the  songs  of 
triumph  which  constitute  the  closing  act  in  his  "  Pro- 
metheus Unbound ;"  for  here  there  are  rhapsodies,  and 
choral  melodies,  and  lyric  bursts,  such  as  could  have 
come  only  from  a  soul  in  transport.  A  glory  of  trans- 
figuration rests  upon  his  thought.  In  such  rapt  moods 
his  face  must  have  shone  as  the  face  of  an  angel.  In 
his  "Hymn  to  Intellectual  Beauty"  he  appears,  strange 


SHELLEY.  279 

as  it  may  seem,  in  the  role  of  a  religious  enthusiast.  It 
is  true  that  in  his  attempts  to  rid  his  conceptions  con- 
cerning God  of  all  anthropomorphisms  he  has  fallen 
into  vagueness,  leaving  us  an  ideal  which,  while  whiter 
than  Parian  marble,  is  also,  alas !  more  cold ;  yet  his 
worship  is  no  less  devout  than  was  Ignatius  Loyola's. 
His  heart  burns  with  the  same  fierce  fires  of  devotion. 
There  is  the  same  chivalric  zeal,  the  same  exhausting 
vigils,  the  same  importunate  prayer. 

We  have  thus  far  found  Shelley  a  highly  imaginative, 
sensitive,  positive,  volatile  creature,  singularly  unsuited 
to  the  circumstances  in  which  he  was  placed.  No  won- 
der his  enthusiasm  soon  became  diseased.  His  mind 
was  not  of  a  judicial  cast.  There  was  not  the  first 
characteristic  of  a  trimmer  about  him,  even  taking  that 
word  in  its  best  sense,  as  given  by  Halifax.  He  was 
by  nature  a  radical,  an  extremist.  No  fear  restrained 
him,  no  constitutional  conservatism,  not  even  common- 
sense  caution.  He  loved  truth  better  than  he  loved 
life.  He  fairly  famished  for  it.  Indeed,  driven  by  his 
intense  hunger,  he  committed  the  grave  error  of  over- 
loading his  faculties  until  their  action  became  dyspeptic. 
Impressionable,  sincere,  simple-hearted  as  a  child,  he 
inconsiderately  gave  assent  to  theories  that  would  not 
for  an  instant  bear  the  test  of  dispassionate  logic,  simply 
because  they  were  specious,  ably  argued,  and  apparently 
tended  to  ameliorate  society.  As  soon  as  accepted,  his 
imagination  threw  upon  them  its  strong  calcium  light, 
and  they  at  once  assumed  a  brilliancy  and  a  coloring 
not  their  own. 

Persecution  stepped  in  only  to  enhance  their  value 
and  confirm  their  truth.  His  enthusiasm  ran  wild. 


280  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

His  pursuit  was  too  eager,  and  he  was  too  elated  over 
what  he  chanced  to  find.  His  precipitancy  blinded 
him.  Hotspurs  can  never  become  successful  discoverers 
in  the  domain  of  philosophy. 

To  this  same  disposition  we  can  trace  the  cause  of 
his  restless  wanderings  from  place  to  place,  like  his 
own  Ahasuerus.  Each  locality  was  successively  se- 
lected for  his  permanent  home.  There,  as  he  used 
to  phrase  it,  he  was  to  live  forever.  But  he  was  no 
sooner  settled  than  a  new  plan,  suggesting  itself,  carried 
everything  before  it,  and  he  would  again  start  on  his 
travels.  His  departures  and  arrivals  were  always  pre- 
cipitate, usually  from  excess  of  enthusiasm.  To  this 
also  we  can  trace  the  exceeding  crudeness  of  his  plans 
for  social  reform,  his  championship  and  abandonment 
of  Irish  liberty.  His  first  marriage,  which  terminated 
so  disastrously,  resulted  from  the  sudden  adoption  of 
the  suggestions  of  his  sympathy.  It  was  no  love-aifair. 
A  pretty  girl  came  to  him  with  a  most  pitiful  tale, 
and  to  help  her  out  of  trouble  he  gallantly,  but  with 
fatal  thoughtlessness,  helped  himself,  and  her  too,  more 
deeply  in. 

Shelley's  fourth  most  noticeable  characteristic  was  the 
strength  and  breadth  of  his  sympathies.  They  were 
cosmopolitan  ;  he  was  a  born  philanthropist.  He  pro- 
foundly pitied  the  unfortunate,  making  their  cause  his 
own.  He  lavished  his  income,  sacrificed  his  ease,  en- 
dangered his  health,  to  compass  his  purposes  of  love. 
Although  his  name  was  cast  out  as  evil,  and  an  almost 
universal  social  ban  rested  upon  him,  his  philanthropic 
zeal  never  abated.  He  set  out  on  his  last  sail  on  the 
sea  that  he  might  the  sooner  welcome  to  Italy  one  whom 


SHELLEY.  281 

he  had  already  helped  out  of  hopeless  debt  by  a  princely 
donation.  His  body  was  washed  ashore  on  the  coast 
of  Tuscany,  and,  in  conformity  to  quarantine  regula- 
tions, was  by  his  friends  reduced  to  ashes.  These  were 
deposited  afterward  in  the  Protestant  burial-ground  at 
Rome  at  the  foot  of  a  moss-grown  tower  near  the  remains 
of  poor  Keats,  his  illustrious  but  ill-starred  countryman, 
in  whose  poems,  a  copy  of*  which  was  found  open  in 
his  pocket,  he  had  evidently  been  seeking  solace  and 
inspiration  just  before  the  storm  struck  him.  On  his 
tombstone  appears  the  simple  inscription,  "Cor  cor- 
dium."  No  more  fitting  tribute  could  have  been  paid 
his  memory. 

His  acts  of  benevolence  beautified  and  brightened 
almost  every  day  of  his  life.  It  seemed  impossible  for 
him  to  witness  distress  or  hear  its  story  without  in- 
stantly planning  its  relief.  One  day  rambling  in  the 
fields  he  met  a  little  girl  bewildered  and  shivering  with 
cold.  It  was  not  long  before  she  was  sitting  on  his 
knee,  drinking  a  bowl  of  warm  milk  which  he  had 
purchased  for  her  at  a  neighboring  farm-house.  Fre- 
quently at  Hampstead,  in  mid-winter,  while  on  his  way 
to  a  coach-office  to  take  passage,  he  would  encounter 
some  poor  unfortunate,  and  after  listening  to  her  pitiful 
tale  would  empty  his  pockets  of  his  last  shilling  and 
cheerily  start  off  on  his  journey  afoot.  Once,  on  his 
way  to  a  friend's  residence,  he  noticed  in  the  street  a 
woman  limping  with  bare  feet  over  the  stones.  He 
quickly  slipped  off  his  shoes  and  pressed  them  upon 
her  acceptance.  His  cashier  was  called  on  to  honor 
order  after  order  for  small  amounts  issued  to  beggars 
who  had  approached  him  after  the  resources  of  his  purse 

13* 


282  VIEWS  ON    VEXED   qUESTIONS. 

had  become  exhausted.  On  a  certain  occasion  he  found 
a  courtesan  lying  helpless  by  the  roadside,  thrust  out 
from  some  brothel  by  the  heartless  wretches  who  had 
shared  her  shame.  Unwilling  to  see  even  this  social 
castaway  abandoned  to  her  fate,  he  carried  her  on  his 
back  a  considerable  distance  to  a  place  of  shelter.  He 
visited  the  poor  lace-makers  at  Marlow  in  their  damp 
and  fireless  abodes,  distributing  blankets,  coal,  food, 
and  medicine  according  as  they  had  need,  even  tenderly 
nursing  them  in  their  sickness.  It  was  while  watching 
in  one  of  these  hovels  he  caught  ophthalmia,  which 
nearly  cost  him  his  eyes.  He  once  walked  a  hospital 
that  he  might  become  a  more  efficient  nurse.  He  was 
on  one  occasion  spending  a  little  time  in  North  Wales, 
where  his  friend  Maddocks,  who  was  then  in  England, 
had  built  an  embankment  whereby  thousands  of  acres 
had  been  redeemed  from  the  sea.  Shelley  discovered 
that  it  was  becoming  dangerously  weakened  by  the 
waves,  and,  in  order  to  raise  means  to  repair  it,  he  im- 
mediately drew  up  a  paper,  heading  it  with  a  subscrip- 
tion of  five  hundred  pounds,  a  sum  he  could  ill  afford, 
and  then  diligently  circulated  it  among  those  living 
near.  Numerous  instances  are  related  of  his  active 
benevolence  during  his  short  winter  stay  among  this 
people. 

In  London  one  evening  about  dusk  he  and  his  col- 
lege mate  Hogg,  weary  of  their  walk,  were  on  their 
way  to  the  hotel  for  tea.  As  was  their  wont,  they  fell 
into  animated  debate.  While  Shelley  was  maintaining 
his  opinions  with  great  warmth,  entirely  unmindful  of 
the  throng  through  which  he  was  threading  his  way,  he 
suddenly  stopped,  then  pushed  his  comrade  unceremoni- 


SHELLEY.  283 

ously  through  a  narrow  door  that  opened  into  the  shop 
of  a  pawnbroker.  This  strange  manoeuvre  he  briefly- 
explained  afterward  in  response  to  some  expression  from 
Hogg  of  surprise  and  annoyance.  On  a  former  visit 
to  London,  some  old  man,  it  seems,  had  told  him  his 
distress,  which  ten  pounds  alone  were  able  to  relieve. 
Shelley's  sympathies  were  instantly  aroused.  He  gave 
him  what  he  had,  and  then  for  the  balance  he  pawned  a 
beautiful  solar  microscope  upon  which  he  had  set  great 
value.  This,  as  he  chanced  to  pass  this  same  way,  it 
suddenly  occurred  to  him  to  redeem.  Although  in  the 
latter  years  of  his  life  his  annual  income  from  his  in- 
herit ince  was  about  one  thousand  pounds,  and  his 
habits  were  as  simple  as  a  hermit's,  he  rarely  was  with 
funds,  so  unceasing  were  his  charities.  He  made  no 
parade  of  his  gifts.  They  were  bestowed  with  the 
utmost  delicacy,  and  those  blessed  by  his  bounty  were 
never  afterward  embarrassed  by  any  inconsiderate  al- 
lusion. 

But  Shelley,  even  in  this  his  best  estate,  was  pitiably 
weak.  He  lacked  discretion,  being  touched  by  every 
tale  of  trouble,  without  dreaming  that  shiftless  vaga- 
bonds often  drive  sharp  bargains  in  tears  and  sighs  and 
tattered  clothes,  hawking  pathos  about  the  streets  as 
they  would  tin-ware  or  calico.  He  also  sadly  lacked 
system  in  his  giving,  and  thus  greatly  crippled  his 
power  to  relieve  the  distress  whose  wide  prevalence  so 
profoundly  grieved  him.  Though  he  thus  betrayed  an 
utter  ignorance  of  human  nature,  and  weakly  followed 
the  blind  promptings  of  his  heart,  yet  the  very  fact 
that  he  believed  in  every  one's  integrity  proved  his 
own ;  and  however  much  we  may  laugh  at  his  childish 


284  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   qUESTIONS. 

credulity,  at  his  impetuous  and  ill-directed  efforts,  his 
self-forgetfulness  commands  our  admiration.  As  I  have 
already  remarked,  he  was  essentially  a  dream-creature ; 
his  kingdom  was  cloud-land.  But  in  his  wildest  aber- 
rations generous  impulses  never  quit  him  company ; 
they  followed  him  like  troops  of  angels. 

He  was  of  strong  personal  attachments.  The  mul- 
titude, it  is  true,  were  so  repelled  by  his  beliefs  that 
they  studiously  avoided  him;  and  such  were  his  sensi- 
tiveness and  self-distrust,  he  instinctively  shrank  from 
general  society,  and  being  naturally  of  a  contemplative 
habit  he  early  became  enamored  with  solitude.  Con- 
sequently very  few  ever  knew  him  personally,  but 
those  few  seemed  unable  to  allude  to  the  magnetism  of 
his  presence  except  in  the  words  of  hero-worship.  He 
had  a  fertile  fancy,  a  fearless  utterance,  a  contagious 
enthusiasm.  He  was  open-handed  to  a  fault.  The 
resources  of  his  genius  and  of  his  scholarship  were 
also  at  their  disposal,  for  he  not  only  witnessed  their 
increasing  popularity  in  the  world  of  letters  without 
that  ugly  envy  of  authors,  but  freely  furnished  them 
facts  and  even  loaned  them  the  wings  of  his  imagina- 
tion. Byron  was  a  superficial  scholar,  and  drew  largely 
on  the  fruits  of  Shelley's  study,  his  retentive  memory, 
his  bold,  free  thought,  Shelley  parting  with  his  men- 
tal wealth  to  his  rival  without  stint,  simply  for  the 
asking.  The  poetry  Byron  wrote  while  in  Switzer- 
land is  more  especially  permeated  with  his  refining  and 
elevating  influence.  In  a  letter  to  Moore  Byron  writes, 
"  Shelley,  who  is  another  bugbear  to  you  and  the  world, 
is  to  my  knowledge  the  least  selfish  and  the  mildest  of 
men ;  a  man  who  has  made  more  sacrifices  to  his  for- 


SHELLEY.  285 

tune  and  his  feelings  than  any  of  whom  I  have  ever 
heard."  He  expressed  the  same  sentiments  in  conver- 
sation with  Lady  Blessington  shortly  after  Shelley's 
death.  Such  was  the  private  judgment  of  one  who, 
out  of  servile  deference  to  the  world's  opinion,  wholly 
ignored  his  acquaintance  with  him  when  writing  for 
the  public  eye,  in  such  low  estimation  was  Shelley  held 
by  the  mass  of  his  countrymen.  While  in  Italy  Shel- 
ley placed  himself,  for  the  sake  of  his  friend,  on  one 
occasion,  in  most  imminent  peril,  receiving  in  the  affray 
a  sabre-stroke  on  the  head  and  a  fall  from  his  horse. 
His  gallantry  astonished  Byron,  for,  as  he  remarked, 
it  was  a  mystery  to  him  upon  what  principle  any  man 
could  be  induced  to  prefer  the  life  of  another  to  his 
own.  Once  a  storm  surprised  them  when  out  sailing, 
and  became  so  violent  that  they  abandoned  all  hope 
of  their  little  boat  ever  reaching  the  shore  in  safety. 
Byron  in  the  emergency  proposed  to  Shelley,  who  was 
no  swimmer,  that  if  he  would  cling  to  an  oar  he  would 
try  and  pull  him  in ;  but  without  a  moment's  hesita- 
tion he  refused,  though  he  thus  apparently  let  go  his 
only  chance  of  rescue.  He  imagined  Byron  would 
have  a  sufficiently  difficult  task  to  save  himself.  Such 
self-forgetfulness  has  appeared  in  human  history  only 
at  the  rarest  intervals. 

The  fact  that  Byron  was  never  a  willing  witness  to 
any  one's  merits,  friendship  being,  as  he  himself  con- 
fessed, a  propensity  in  which  his  genius  was  very  lim- 
ited, warrants  us  in  attaching  to  any  praise  that  may 
have  fallen  from  his  lips  or  pen,  or  have  been  uncon- 
sciously expressed  in  his  life,  a  peculiar  emphasis. 

The  attachment  for  each  other  of  Shelley  and  Leigh 


286  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

Hunt  was  of  the  closest,  and  lasted  till  death.  Hunt 
says  that  for  his  part  he  never  could  mention  the  poet's 
name  without  a  transport  of  love  and  gratitude.  Hor- 
ace Smith,  a  prosperous  stock-broker,  one  of  the  authors 
of  "  Rejected  Addresses,"  was  warmly  attached  to  him. 
Although  they  were  at  direct  issue  on  questions  of 
religion  and  social  order,  and  Shelley  was  the  object  of 
obloquy  everywhere,  Smith  always  reposed  in  him  the 
utmost  confidence,  honoring  without  security  every  draft 
made  upon  him,  feeling  certain  that  he  had  some  benevo- 
lent scheme  in  mind  and  would  not  for  his  life  know- 
ingly misapply  a  single  farthing.  Shelley  was,  perhaps, 
drawn  into  closer  intimacy  with  Keats  than  with  any 
other  of  his  acquaintances;  and  in  some  of  the  incidents 
of  their  intercourse  his  capacity  for  pure,  fervent,  self- 
sacrificing  attachment  conspicuously  appears.  They 
agreed  during  a  set  six  months  to  write  competing 
poems.  "Endymion"  and  "The  Revolt  of  Islam" 
were  the  result  of  this  friendly  rivalship.  Keats's  effort 
on  its  issue  from  the  press  was  most  mercilessly  criticised 
in  the  "Quarterly  Review."  Shelley  with  great  magna- 
nimity wrote  to  Southey  to  interfere  in  his  favor.  But 
the  reply  he  received,  instead  of  speaking  in  generous 
compliment  of  Keats,  fell  upon  himself  in  cruel  accu- 
sation. The  treachery  came  unawares.  It  stung  him 
like  an  adder.  The  fair  fame  of  England's  poet-lau- 
reate from  that  day  shines  with  a  diminished  lustre. 
Shelley  was  seemingly  as  interested  in  Keats's  prosperity 
as  in  his  own.  The  pleasure  he  derived  from  the  excel- 
lencies of  "  The  Eve  of  St.  Agnes"  and  «  Hyperion" 
was  never  embittered  by  suggestions  of  envy.  It  was 
upon  his  open  page  his  eyes  last  rested.  From  "  Adonais," 


SHELLEY.  287 

that  consummate  flower  of  his  genius,  there  exhales  a 
fragrance  of  affection  that  will  never  die  out  of  English 
literature.  Love  claims  her  own.  Now  at  last,  after 
life's  fitful  fever,  they  lie  peacefully  sleeping  side  by 
side. 

By  far  the  major  part  of  his  writings  was  conceived 
in  the  true  spirit  of  philanthropy.  His  schemes  were, 
many  of  them,  Quixotic,  it  is  true;  some  were  absolutely 
pernicious;  but  they  everywhere  bear  evidences  of  a 
most  tender  solicitude  for  the  welfare  of  suffering  and 
wronged  men.  In  "  The  Revolt  of  Islam"  his  verse 
breaks  out  in  hot  indignation  against  the  oppressor;  in 
the  drama  of  "  Hellas"  and  in  the  Odes  to  Naples  and 
to  Liberty  there  breathes  through  exquisite  choral  melo- 
dies an  enthusiasm  of  gladness  because  of  the  oppres- 
sor's overthrow,  such  as  could  have  come  only  from  the 
heart  of  one  who  loved  much. 

We  have  here  a  picture  of  seemingly  the  most  kind- 
hearted  and  considerate  of  men.  Yet  it  appears  it  was 
possible  for  this  man  to  abandon  wife  and  babe,  and  so 
live  afterward  as  to  call  down  upon  him  the  curses  of 
nearly  all  England.  I  have  shown  how  he  could  not 
bear  the  sight  or  thought  of  sorrow.  He  emptied  his 
purse,  he  took  his  shoes  from  his  feet,  the  bread  from 
his  mouth,  sacrificed  ease,  faced  death,  for  the  welfare 
often  of  utter  strangers,  so  profoundly  the  presence  of 
grief  and  pain  moved  him.  And  these  acts  were  per- 
formed not  merely  once  or  twice,  but  they  were  the 
daily  habit  of  his  life;  and  so  deeply  seated,  so  sponta- 
neous, so  irresistible,  were  these  impulses  of  sympathy, 
even  his  belief  that  he  was  misinterpreted  and  maligned, 
the  fact  that  he  had  become  a  social  outcast,  seemed 


288  VIEWS   ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

powerless  to  check  for  an  instant  his  purposes  of  love. 
We  have  found  his  personal  attachments  to  be  intense, 
to  be  characterized  by  the  noblest  self-sacrifices,  and  to 
continue  constant  until  death.  Still  this  strange  being, 
without  any  outward  sign  of  emotion,  sundered  the 
most  sacred  and  the  tenderest  of  ties.  Months  passed. 
He  never  inquired  after  either  the  wife  or  child  whom 
he  had  abandoned  with  such  apparent  nonchalance.  He 
seemed  to  have  forgotten  them.  A  new  voice  soon  after 
thrilled  him,  and  he  precipitately  formed  a  new  alliance 
without  sanction  of  law.  At  last  Harriet,  made  des- 
perate, as  most  thought,  by  care  and  homesickness, 
threw  herself  into  the  river,  and  Shelley  woke  to  find 
himself  arraigned  at  the  bar  of  public  opinion  to  answer 
the  charges  of  cowardice,  of  cold  cruelty,  and  of  an 
impure  life,  which  from  every  quarter  were  in  hot 
indignation  preferred  against  him. 

Is  it  possible  to  acquit  Shelley  of  blame  in  this 
matter?  Assuredly  not.  This  is  neither  hoped  for 
nor  sought.  My  aim  is  simply  to  clear  his  life  of  the 
appearance  of  inconsistency,  by  placing  in  their  proper 
light  certain  mitigating  circumstances,  and  to  call  atten- 
tion to  certain  constitutional  peculiarities  and  defects 
usually  overlooked.  They  are  briefly  these.  He  was 
a  mere  boy  when  he  married  Harriet,  not  yet  out  of 
his  teens.  She  told  him  she  was  in  trouble.  That  is 
about  all  he  knew  about  her.  His  quick  fancy  fired. 
He  must  relieve  her,  whatever  the  hazard.  He  did 
exactly  what  an  intensely  sympathetic,  imaginative,  im- 
practical, inexperienced  boy  would  do.  It  is  impossible 
to  overstate  the  rashness  of  the  act,  for  he  had  neither 
money,  profession,  nor  friends.  His  father  had  already 


SHELLEY.  289 

driven  him  out  of  doors,  made  mad  by  his  obstinate 
atheism,  and  now  this  misalliance,  so  humbling  to  pa- 
ternal pride,  rendered  reconciliation  hopeless.  These 
two  children,  for  they  were  nothing  more,  wandered  aim- 
lessly from  place  to  place.  Neither  of  them  possessed 
any  faculty  for  self-help  ;  neither  of  them,  the  least  con- 
ception of  economy ;  and  so  it  was  not  long  before  abso- 
lute starvation  stared  them  full  in  the  face.  Such  des- 
perate straits  very  naturally  tended  to  cool  their  ardor, 
and  force  into  painful  prominence  the  fact,  for  fact  it 
was,  that  there  existed  between  them  absolutely  no  com- 
munity either  of  tastes  or  temperament.  None  will 
dispute  their  utter  unfitness  for  a  life-intimacy  with 
each  other.  Separation  was  resolved  upon.  The  agree- 
ment was  mutual,  and  entered  into  in  apparent  good 
humor.  He  left  her  with  her  babe  in  her  arms  at  the 
door  of  her  old  home,  where  he  knew  there  was  an 
abundance  of  material  comforts.  I  fail  to  see  tlte 
necessity  of  imputing  to  Shelley  any  unkind  intent. 
In  making  up  our  judgment  we  should  keep  in  mind 
his  utter  dejection,  his  wounded  pride,  his  crushing 
sense  of  helplessness.  We  should  remember  that  he 
was  essentially  a  dream-creature,  hopelessly  unfit  to 
push  his  way  in  the  world ;  that  he  possessed  one  of 
the  most  vivid  imaginations  ever  intrusted  to  mortals, 
accompanied  by  such  acute  sensibility  that  there  swept 
through  his  brain  tempests  of  thought  of  which  most 
men  know  nothing.  We  should  recollect  that,  while 
his  benevolence  was  cosmopolitan,  his  congeniality  was 
limited  in  the  extreme.  His  mental  make  being  so 
peculiar,  his  personal  likes  and  dislikes  so  positive  and 
powerful,  the  wonder  is  he  ever  succeeded  at  all  in 


290  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

consorting  with  his  fellows.  To  have  been  forced  into 
daily  intimacy  with  one  with  whom  he  had  little  or 
nothing  in  common  would  have  been  for  him  the  keen- 
est torture.  Those  outside  influences  that  hold  together 
so  many  family  circles,  those  prudential  reasons,  ques- 
tions of  convenience,  solicitude  for  children,  or  dread 
of  public  scandal,  were  with  him  as  weak  as  cobwebs. 
He  was  of  too  intense  a  temperament  to  be  able  to  take 
any  such  middle  course.  Marriage  to  him  was  a  mat- 
ter of  affection,  not  of  finance.  To  have  continued  to 
feign  what  he  had  ceased  to  feel  would  have  been  a 
living  lie,  a  thing  he  loathed.  I  find  it  stated  by  one 
of  his  biographers  that  after  he  had  commenced  living 
with  Mary  he  consulted  with  his  lawyer  in  all  serious- 
ness whether  it  would  not  be  feasible  for  Harriet  and 
her  children  to  make  their  home  with  them.  While  in 
this  he  showed  his  laughable  ignorance  of  human  na- 
tQre,  his  remarkable  deficiency  in  the  plainest  common 
sense,  he  also  showed  that  he  was  still  friendly  and  felt 
solicitous  that  they  should  fare  well ;  he  showed  that 
he  was  totally  unconscious  that  he  had  done  them  an 
irreparable  injury,  that  between  them  and  him  there 
had  been  an  impassable  gulf  fixed.  This  single  cir- 
cumstance throws  a  flood  of  light  upon  this  whole 
affair. 

Was  Harriet's  suicide  the  result  of  Shelley's  aban- 
donment and  proof  of  his  cruelty  ?  There  are  some 
strange  incidents  in  her  history  which  seem  to  contro- 
vert this.  Even  as  far  back  as  her  school-days,  when 
kindly  used,  she  meditated  self-murder ;  and  even  after 
that  the  thought  came  back  to  her  at  frequent  inter- 
vals. Many  an  hour  at  night  she  lay  awake  devising 


SHELLEY.  291 

plans  to  effect  it,  although  in  the  morning  her  attention 
would  be  diverted  and  she  would  quietly  go  about  her 
accustomed  duties.  She  was  in  the  habit  of  conversing 
on  this  theme  before  entire  strangers,  with  nothing  ex- 
traordinary in  either  tone  or  manner,  making  it  the 
subject  of  extended  table-talks  and  astonishing  the 
guests  by  her  coolness.  Did  she  not  dwell  on  this 
thought  until  the  thought  mastered  her  ?  Would  she 
not  have  destroyed  herself  sooner  or  later  had  there 
been  no  separation?  Her  first  child,  lanthe,  was  at 
one  time  affected  with  a  tumor.  A  surgeon  was  sum- 
moned. Few  would  have  courted  the  opportunity  of 
watching  him  at  his  work.  Harriet,  though  plainly 
told  by  him  that  the  sight  would  be  exceedingly  pain- 
ful, and  that  she  could  possibly  do  no  good,  yet,  young 
mother  though  she  was,  not  only  persisted  in  remaining, 
but  narrowly  watched  every  detail  in  this  terrible  per- 
formance, without  the  least  symptom  of  sympathy,  to 
the  utter  amazement  of  those  present.  This  incident, 
revealing  as  it  does  the  sharp  contrast  between  Harriet 
and  Shelley,  should  have  no  little  weight  in  determin- 
ing the  causes  of  the  separation  and  subsequent  suicide. 
Harriet's  sister,  Eliza,  who  dogged  the  footsteps  of  the 
young  couple  like  a  thing  of  evil,  persistently  remind- 
ing Harriet  of  her  diseased  nerves  and  nursing  her 
already  too  plain  predilection,  and  gradually  exciting 
toward  herself  Shelley's  deep  aversion,  probably  played 
no  small  part  in  this  tragedy.  Shelley  once  wrote  in  a 
letter,  "  I  certainly  hate  Eliza  with  all  my  soul.  It  is 
a  sight  which  awakens  an  inexpressible  sensation  of 
disgust  and  horror  to  see  her  caress  my  poor  little 
lanthe,  in  whom  I  may  hereafter  find  the  consolation 


292  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   qVESTIONS. 

of  sympathy.  I  sometimes  feel  faint  with  the  fatigue  of 
checking  the  overflowings  of  my  unbounded  abhorrence 
for  this  miserable  wretch.  But  she  is  no  more  than 
a  blind  and  loathsome  worm  that  cannot  see  to  sting." 
The  exact  cause  of  this  aversion  is  unknown.  It  was 
excessive,  as  were  all  his  feelings,  as  indeed  was  his 
former  deference  to  this  same  lady.  Harriet  was  held 
by  her  under  some  fatal  fascination ;  and  Shelley,  in 
his  desperation  to  rid  himself  of  the  loathed  presence, 
may  have  determined  on  what  he  would  have  gladly 
averted. 

He  evidently  purposed  to  assume  the  care  of  his 
children  again  should  his  means  ever  warrant  it,  and  to 
properly  educate  them.  And  when  he  attempted  this 
and  was  denied  the  privilege  by  decree  in  Chancery  on 
the  ground  of  his  having  written  "  Queen  Mab,"  for 
no  other  charge  was  sustained  against  him,  grief  and 
rage  swept  through  him  like  a  whirlwind.  In  his 
"  Lines  to  the  Lord  Chancellor"  we  gain  some  concep- 
tion of  this  terrible  tempest.  The  poem  is  no  piece  of 
ambitious  rhetoric  prepared  for  the  press.  He  never 
made  allusion  to  it,  threw  it  into  his  limbo  of  rejected 
manuscripts,  and  doubtless  thought  it  destroyed.  It  is 
idle  to  contend  that  the  heart  that  broke  out  in  this 
awful  curse  ever  looked  upon  his  children  coldly. 
Surely  from  nothing  but  outraged  paternal  tenderness 
could  have  come  this  wild  maniac  shriek.  That  he  sel- 
dom, if  ever,  alluded  to  his  children  is  no  proof  of  in- 
difference; for  it  was  among  the  eccentricities  of  this 
strange  being  to  speak  with  a  mysterious  air,  in  hushed 
whispers,  on  subjects  which  to  most  people  seemed  com- 
monplace. Some  say  that  when  the  news  of  Harriet's 


SHELLEY.  293 

fate  reached  him  lie  was  for  three  days  beside  himself; 
but  reason  returned,  and  in  time  there  came  upon  his 
thoughts  a  deep  peace.  Such  an  announcement  would 
naturally  have  fallen  upon  one  of  such  delicate  nerves 
with  dangerous  force,  overwhelming  him  for  the  time 
with  self-accusation.  Had  he  been  capable  of  the  cal- 
culating, cold  cruelty  with  which  he  was  charged,  his 
feelings  never  would  have  been  sufficiently  intense  to 
thus  master  him ;  and  had  he  not  found  when  he 
came  to  himself  that  he  had  overestimated  for  the 
instant  his  real  guilt,  that  he  had  been  less  a  designing 
criminal  than  a  weak,  blind  creature  of  circumstance, 
overtaken  in  a  fault  at  a  time  when  hope  had  wellnigh 
died  within  him,  erring  less  in  heart  than  in  head, 
he  never  afterward  could  have  attained  that  abiding 
peace. 

He  felt  himself  completely  absolved  from  his  first 
marriage,  though  he  was  still  undivorced,  for  he  hon- 
estly believed  that  law-makers  in  this  matter  meddled 
with  what  did  not  rightly  concern  them.  He  saw 
Mary,  and  on  first  sight  was  very  naturally  carried  by 
storm.  In  his  subsequent  action  we  see  the  same 
thoughtless  impetuosity  which  marks  the  acts  of  his 
whole  life.  It  so  chanced  he  found  a  companion  per- 
fectly suited  to  his  peculiar  temperament,  one  who  with 
him  could  range  with  ease  through  the  widest  fields  of 
fancy,  thoroughly  understanding  and  appreciating  his 
marvellous  gifts.  In  the  presence  of  the  constancy  of 
his  affection  for  Mary,  the  acknowledged  purity  and 
quiet  contentment  of  their  wedded  life,  it  is  impossible 
for  me  not  to  acquit  Shelley  of  those  grave  charges  pre- 
ferred against  him.  That  he  was  impulsive,  impracti- 


294  VIEWS   ON   VEXED   QUESTJONS. 

cal,  sensitive,  a  magnifier  of  trifles,  the  slave  of  foolish 
whims,  the  champion  of  crude  and  mischievous  notions 
about  the  functions  of  government  and  the  demands  of 
social  life,  that  he  betrayed  a  pitiable  ignorance  of  hu- 
man nature,  and  a  pitiable  lack  of  power  to  adapt  him- 
self to  the  ever-changing  circumstances  of  human  life, 
I  stand  ready  to  grant.  But  that  to  these  and  kindred 
defects,  the  morbid  outgrowths  of  the  very  traits  of 
character  to  which  I  have  directed  attention,  called  out 
in  an  extraordinary  juncture  of  affairs,  and  to  these 
alone,  can  be  traced  the  causes  of  that  abandonment  of 
family  which  has  brought  him  under  such  condemna- 
tion, I  stand  equally  ready  to  maintain. 

The  fifth  and  last  phase  of  Shelley's  character  to 
which  I  direct  attention  is  his  large  gift  of  hope.  Of 
him,  thus  viewed,  we  have  the  true  type  in  the  statue 
of  Mercury  which,  poised  far  in  air  above  the  site  of 
the  old  French  Bastile,  crowns  the  column  of  July.  In 
marked  contrast  to  Egypt's  Sphinx,  sunk  neck-deep  in 
sand,  its  placid  stone  face  fronting  the  dead  centuries, 
we  have  here  a  winged  boy  at  the  point  of  taking  flight, 
deigning  to  touch  the  pedestal  on  which  he  stands  with 
but  the  tips  of  his  lifted  feet. 

We  see  in  this  life-habit  of  hope  a  necessary  result- 
ant of  those  other  powerful  leanings  of  Shelley's  mind 
of  which  I  have  already  attempted  an  analysis.  The 
latest  thoughts  of  this  dreamer  still  glisten  with  dew. 
His  faculties  never  lost  their  morning  freshness.  To 
the  very  last  he  looked  out  on  life  with  the  eager  ex- 
pectation of  childhood.  The  texture  of  his  mind  was 
too  ethereal  to  adequately  grasp  the  prosaic,  practical, 
breathing  world  about  him.  In  his  passionate  long- 


SHELLEY.  295 

ings  to  overthrow  its  tyrannies  we  have  seen  him  in 
full  confidence  put  out  his  little  baby  hands  to  pluck 
down  the  Gibraltars  of  social  caste  and  bigotry,  of  old- 
time  prejudice  and  self-seeking,  behind  which  they  lay 
intrenched.  As  he  was  a  natural  recluse,  lacking  the 
experience  of  a  man  of  affairs  or  any  inclination  to 
mingle  with  the  multitude  and  familiarize  himself  with 
their  methods  of  thought  and  the  ground-work  of  their 
character, — a  born  philanthropist  stung  into  morbid 
sympathy  with  the  wretchedness  of  that  multitude  by 
his  own  personal  wrongs, — a  radical,  a  revolutionist  by 
the  very  temper  of  his  mind, — no  wonder  his  brain  be- 
came the  general  rendezvous  of  every  crazed  theory  of 
reform.  His  imagination,  noted  alike  for  its  abstract- 
ness  and  its  intensity,  gave  them  the  definiteness  and 
semblance  of  life,  even  transfigured  them  by  its  witch- 
craft into  conquering  bands  of  angels.  Although  the 
opposition  he  encountered  surprised  him  like  the  sud- 
den uncovering  of  masked  batteries,  yet  he  never  was 
conscious  of  danger,  never  once  questioned  the  sound- 
ness of  his  views  or  distrusted  their  ultimate  triumph. 
We  have  seen  him  under  such  influences  carried  away 
by  the  impulse  of  an  outraged  individualism  into  blind 
frenzy.  We  have  seen  him  too  in  happier  moods,  at 
times  when  thrones  tottered  and  light  broke  fitfully 
along  the  world ;  then  the  enthusiasm  of  his  mental 
frames  was  but  a  step  removed  from  inspiration.  His 
spirit  seemed  to  rend  the  veil  of  the  future  and  catch  a 
glimpse  of  the  fulness  and  splendor  that  are  in  waiting. 
His  two-paged  pamphlet,  that  wild  freak  of  his  college 
days,  he  looked  upon  as  the  advance  guard  of  an  army 
of  arguments,  destined  under  his  leadership  to  overturn 


296  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

unfit  faiths  everywhere.  No  sooner  had  Oxford  ban- 
ished him  in  her  paroxysm  of  panic  than  the  plucky 
boy  set  about  the  recasting  and  completion  of  "  Queen 
Mab,"  and  we  find  even  this  chaos  of  destructive  be- 
liefs, this  embodiment  of  bold  blasphemy,  bathed  in 
the  same  golden  atmosphere  of  hope.  He  thought  a 
millennium  near,  even  at  the  door.  Irish  exiles  found 
no  difficulty  in  enlisting  him  in  their  madcap  enter- 
prises. The  Greek  patriots  went  from  his  presence  to 
dream  new  dreams  of  glory.  A  burdened  people  here 
and  there  grew  restive,  and  he  burst  out  at  once  into 
those  rich  choral  melodies  that  ring  through  the  drama 
of  "Hellas"  and  the  Odes  to  Naples  and  to  Liberty. 
There  is,  it  is  true,  in  his  "  Alastor"  and  in  one  or  two 
of  his  minor  poems  a  spirit  of  dejection;  but  these  we 
must  remember  were  written  at  times  of  extreme  bodily 
weakness  and  under  presentiments  of  death.  In  "  Pro- 
metheus Unbound"  the  true  character  of  Shelley,  his 
strong  and  weak  points  as  both  man  and  author,  the 
peculiarity  of  his  beliefs,  the  aspirations  that  stirred 
within  him,  and  the  grand  hopes  in  a  world's  reclaim 
to  which  he  through  life  so  fondly  clung,  received,  per- 
haps, their  most  perfect  expression ;  and  this  produc- 
tion consequently,  while  "  Adonais"  remains  the  finished 
masterpiece,  must  take  precedence  of  all  the  other 
writings  of  the  poet  as  the  fullest  representative  of  his 
genius. 

This  is  the  poem  over  whose  pages  the  enthusiasm 
of  Hope  sheds  an  especial  splendor.  There  is  an 
Oriental  magnificence,  a  fervency,  an  exultant  freedom 
in  its  imagery,  ushering  us  into  the  very  presence  of 
the  Spirit  of  Gladness.  There  seems  to  be  entertained 


SHELLEY.  297 

no  more  doubt  about  the  happy  issue  of  the  battle  of 
passions  and  principles  still  fiercely  waging  on  the  wide 
field  of  the  world  than  if  it  were  already  an  accom- 
plished fact.  Indeed,  we  have  here  elaborated  into  a 
lyrical  drama  the  millennial  day-dreams  of  the  very 
Prince  of  Visionists. 

The  argument  of  the  poem  is  this.  Love  is  the 
motive  power  of  the  universe.  Goodness  is  inherent 
in  men,  and  capable  of  self-development;  while  evil 
is  a  usurper,  destined  to  irremediable  overthrow.  In 
other  words,  the  human  race  both  can  and  will  re- 
form by  the  might  of  its  own  free  choice.  For  the 
drapery  of  this  thought  Shelley  has  remodelled  the  old 
Greek  myth  that  forms  the  plot  of  one  of  the  lost 
tragedies  of  JEschylus.  The  throne  of  Saturn,  person- 
ating ignorant  innocence,  is  usurped  by  Jupiter,  the 
spirit  of  evil,  who,  jealous  of  Prometheus,  the  humanity 
in  man,  and  wishing  to  extort  from  him  a  revelation 
of  the  danger  that  threatens  his  empire,  chains  him  to 
a  rock  and  delegates  fell  furies  to  feed  upon  his  ever- 
renewed  heart.  But  the  tyrant  finds  no  torture  that 
can  tame  the  Titan.  The  secret  is  kept;  the  fatal  step 
taken.  Demogorgon,  the  Spirit  of  Oblivion,  Jove's 
own  offspring,  becomes  his  destroyer,  and  Prometheus, 
freed  by  Hercules,  re-establishes  with  nature  his  old 
companionship. 

Prometheus,  at  the  opening  of  the  drama,  speaks  of 
his  slow-dragging  centuries  of  pain,  their  moments 
divided  by  keen  pangs  till  they  seem  years.  Though 
torture  and  solitude  and  scorn  are  his  empire,  he  glories 
in  it  as  a  conqueror,  believing  it  more  enviable  than 
that  of  his  tormentor.  Though  each  hour  brings  pain, 

14 


298  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

he  welcomes  it,  for  one  among  them  is  to  drag  forth 
the  cruel  king  to  kiss  his  feet,  which  then  would  not 
deign  to  trample  the  prostrate  slave.  The  Titan,  con- 
fident of  his  approaching  triumph,  pronounces  a  pity 
for  the  fallen  god,  not  in  malevolent  exultation  as  at 
first,  before  sorrow  had  lifted  him  into  nobler  thought. 
He  asks  his  former  curse  recalled,  and  Earth  forces  the 
phantasm  of  the  very  foe  against  whom  it  was  first 
pronounced,  to  repeat  it.  It  is  filled  with  proud  de- 
fiance, bidding  the  torturer  do  his  worst.  While 
expressing  appreciation  of  the  woes  in  store,  presenting 
a  frightful  picture  of  the  agony  within  the  gift  of 
omnipotent  hate,  he  yet  invokes  a  sufferer's  curse  to 
clasp  his  tormentor  like  remorse,  till  his  infinity  shall 
be  a  robe  of  envenomed  agony,  a  crown  of  burning 
gold.  He  waits  to  welcome  the  hour  when  the  mask 
shall  be  torn  from  the  face  of  the  tyrant,  and  after 

"  Fruitless  crime 
Scorn  track  his  lagging  fall  through  boundless  space  and  time." 

These  words,  thus  again  pronounced,  Prometheus 
regrets,  calls  them  quick  and  vain,  remarks  that  grief 
was  blind,  that  he  wished  no  living  thing  to  suffer 
pain.  Earth,  fearing  from  this  expression  of  pity  that 
the  Titan  was  at  last  vanquished,  is  reassured  by  lone, 
who  is  confident  it  is  but  a  passing  spasm.  Then 
Mercury  arrives  with  a  band  of  furies.  Before  they 
are  let  loose,  the  messenger  expostulates  with  the  rebel, 
endeavors  to  convince  him  of  the  hopelessness  of  his 
rebellion,  and  to  induce  him  to  divulge  the  secret  and 
thus  secure  his  release.  "  Let  others  flatter  crime," 
replies  the  captive,  "I  wait  the  retributive  hour."  The 


SHELLEY.  299 

hell-hounds  clamor  for  their  victim.  He  warns  Mer- 
cury of  the  danger  of  delay.  Still  Mercury,  sympa- 
thizing with  the  grand  old  sufferer,  says,  pleadingly, — 

"  Once  more  answer  me, 
Thou  knowest  not  the  period  of  Jove's  power  ?" 

The  reply  comes  back, — 

"  I  know  but  this,  that  it  must  come." 

Mercury  bids  him  plunge  into  eternity  and  see  the 
centuries  of  approaching  agony ;  he  pictures  his  bliss 
among  the  gods  if  he  will  but  yield;  and  when  at 
his  continued  refusal  he  expresses  wonder  and  pity, 
there  comes  from  the  firm  lips  of  the  Titan, — 

"Pity  the  self-despising  slaves  of  Heaven, 
Not  me.  .  .  .  How  vain  is  talk ! — 
Call  up  the  fiends." 

They  come.  Such  pictures  of  mental  torture  as  here 
follow  have  few,  if  any,  parallels  in  literature.  The 
ordeal  ended,  the  air  is  filled  with  light  and  music  from 
a  chorus  of  spirits,  bright  essences  of  human  thought, 
indefinable  hopes,  aspirations  after  better  things,  self- 
forgetting  love,  dreams  of  poets,  all  the  tokens  of  in- 
nate nobleness  in  men,  harbingers  of  brighter  days. 
They  assure  him  that  though  Ruin  is  now  Love's 
shadow,  its  doom  is  sealed. 

In  the  opening  of  the  second  act,  Panthea  and  lone, 
types  of  faith  and  hope,  are  visited  with  dreams  that 
body  forth  this  same  bright  future.  In  succeeding 
scenes  they  go  down  with  Asia  to  the  cave  of  Demo- 
gorgon  and  inquire  after  the  origin  of  evil,  and  we  en- 


300  VIEWS   ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

counter  in  the  reply  some  of  those  wild  vagaries,  so 
common  to  the  poet,  betraying  most  lamentable  weak- 
ness. At  the  close  of  the  conversation  Asia  demands 
of  Demogorgon  when  Prometheus  shall  be  freed  and 
right  again  reign  on  the  earth ;  and  in  this  reply  im- 
personating the  hours  we  feel  that  a  most  consummate 
artist  is  touching  the  canvas  into  life.  The  spirits  ride 
by  in  chariots  drawn  by  winged  steeds  trampling  the 
dim  winds : 

"  Some  look  behind  as  fiends  pursued  them  there, 
Others  with  burning  eyes  lean  forth  and  drink 
With  eager  lips  the  wind  of  their  own  speed, 
'  As  if  the  thing  they  loved  fled  on  before, 
And  now,  even  now,  they  clasped  it.    Their  bright  locks 
Stream  like  a  comet's  flashing  hair ;  they  all 
Sweep  onward." 

Of  these  one  bears  a  dreadful  countenance, — a  ghastly 
charioteer,  the  shadow  of  a  destiny  whose  accompanying 
darkness  is  soon  to  wrap  in  lasting  night  heaven's 
kingless  throne.  As  this  terrible  darkness  floats  up 
and  ascends  the  car,  the  coursers  fly  in  terror,  trampling 
out  the  stars.  Another  chariot  stays  near  the  verge  of 
the  horizon.  It  is  an  ivory  shell  inlaid  with  fire.  A 
young  spirit  guides  it.  In  his  eyes  is  the  light  of  hope. 
He  says,  in  announcing  his  coming, — 

"  My  coursers  are  fed  with  the  lightning, 

They  drink  of  the  whirlwind's  stream. 
#**#** 
I  desire;  and  their  speed  makes  night  kindle  : 

I  fear  ;  they  outstrip  the  typhoon  : 
Ere  the  clouds  piled  on  Atlas  can  dwindle, 
We  encircle  the  Earth  and  the  Moon. 


SHELLEY.  301 

On  the  brink  of  the  night  and  the  morning 
My  coursers  are  wont  to  respire, 

But  the  Earth  has  just  whispered  a  warning 
That  their  feet  must  be  swifter  than  fire : 
They  shall  drink  the  hot  speed  of  desire." 

After  the  spirits  wing  by,  Asia's — nature's — future 
is  foretold  in  most  delicate  and  impressive  imagery. 

In  the  third  act  Demogorgon,  with  tranquil  might, 
remands  Jove  down  to  darkness.  Hercules  strikes  the 
fetters  from  the  limbs  of  the  Titan,  the  exiled  Asia 
returns  to  the  side  of  her  lover,  and  the  Spirit  of  the 
Hour,  as  he  sweeps  through  the  air  in  his  chariot, 
heralds  the  dawn  of  the  new  era.  The  concluding  act 
is  a  series  of  triumphal  chants,  in  whose  wraith-like 
fancies  we  witness  one  of  the  most  ethereal- minded  of 
mortals  in  a  state  of  wild  transport.  An  unwonted 
glory  lights  his  thought,  for  it  is  here,  where  Hope  by 
her  enchantments  seemingly  draws  aside  for  him  the 
hiding  curtains,  that  it  may  be  safely  said  his  powers  of 
creation  culminate. 

This  drama,  while  unquestionably  a  work  of  art,  is 
also,  and  with  even  greater  emphasis,  a  confession  of 
faith  and  a  revelation  of  temperament.  With  it  simply 
as  such  am  I  at  present  concerned.  And  now,  let  me 
ask,  what  is  there  more  natural  than  that  this  fearless 
devotee  to  truth,  this  dream -bewildered  lover  of  men, 
this  tameless  Arab  child,  thus  firmly  convinced  that 
the  world's  sufferings  were  due  to  whatever  of  its  cus- 
toms and  laws  restrained  in  the  least  the  utmost  per- 
sonal freedom,  and  that  so  soon  as  these  impediments 
were  removed  the  divinity  in  man  would  be  self-assert- 
ing and  reign  without  a  rival,  that  the  present  social 


302  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   qUESTIONS. 

system  was  doomed  to  certain  and  swift  overthrow, — 
what  more  natural  than  that  he,  led  by  some  fatal  hal- 
lucination to  regard  himself  as  the  great  apostle  of  this 
new,  strange  Gospel  of  Peace,  should  really  from  right 
motives  have  openly  violated  in  his  life  the  common 
conscience,  and  in  his  published  works  have  become 
the  uncompromising  advocate  of  principles  which  had 
they  prevailed  would  have  hopelessly  debauched  it  ? 

I  have  now  completed  my  analysis  of  this  remark- 
ably exceptional  character.  It  has  been  my  purpose 
simply  to  show  how  Shelley,  surcharged  as  he  was  with 
imagination,  individualism,  enthusiasm,  love,  and  hope, 
while  exhibiting  in  his  life  and  writings  many  appar- 
ently vital  contradictions,  actually  maintained  in  the 
main  drift  of  both  his  thoughts  and  acts  as  strict  a 
self-consistency  as  comports  with  usual  human  frailty. 
Precisely  how  far  he  was  accountable  for  his  morbid 
mental  moods,  his  dangerous  doctrines  and  still  more 
dangerous  modes  of  life,  or  how  far  he  was  the  helpless 
creature  of  organism  and  circumstance,  I  leave  an  open 
question,  preferring  that  the  responsibility  of  its  de- 
cision shall  rest  with  that  higher  tribunal  to  which  he 
has  gone,  "  The  Court  of  Final  Appeal." 


THE   BRONTE   SISTERS. 


HAWORTH  village  sturdily  clambers  up  the  stony 
sides  of  a  Yorkshire  hill,  until  with  its  kirk  and  par- 
sonage it  gains  outlook  over  wide  reaches  of  bleak  moor. 
Its  inhabitants,  of  Norse  ancestry,  moulded  by  contests 
with  a  most  stubborn  soil  and  forced  familiarity  with 
the  wildest  scenery,  combine  with  their  curt  ways  and 
vehement  prejudices  keen  intellects,  independent  wills, 
and  warm  hearts.  Impassive  stoics  without,  within 
they  burn  with  the  fiercest  fires  of  feeling.  Their 
hatreds  and  friendships,  kindled  with  slow  caution, 
become  fervid  and  deathless.  This  village  of  dim  tra- 
ditionary origin  has  already  outlasted  many  generations, 
and  seems  destined,  with  its  solid  masonry  and  stereo- 
typed life,  to  outlast  many  more. 

Fifty-nine  years  ago,  in  chill  mid-winter,  from  across 
these  wild  barrens  a  public  coach  slowly  rolled  along 
the  main  street  of  this  lonesome  country  town.  As  it 
stopped  before  the  door  of  the  parsonage  there  alighted 
a  man  of  clerical  habit,  tall  and  slender  in  person  and 
of  decisive  tread.  Behind  him,  past  the  gate  and  up 
the  garden-walk,  followed  a  middle-aged,  pale-faced 
lady,  accompanied  by  six  very  young  and  extremely 
delicate  children.  The  house  they  entered,  its  walls, 

303 


304  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

its  floor,  and  its  staircases,  were  of  cold  stone.  It  stood 
in  an  isolated  position.  About  it  on  three  sides  was 
the  silent  city  of  the  dead ;  while  in  its  rear  lay  the 
unpeopled,  wind-swept  moors.  Rev.  Patrick  Bronte, 
thus  entering  upon  his  new  Episcopal  pastorate,  was 
one  of  nature's  anomalies.  His  appearance  was  striking. 
He  would  impress  you  at  once  as  the  very  impersona- 
tion of  independence,  alertness,  and  decision.  He  was 
an  Irishman  of  hot  blood,  having  all  that  wild  vehe- 
mence that  gives  dash  and  vigor  to  the  heroes  of  ro- 
mance, yet  his  volcanic  nature  was  crusted  over  with 
rigid  reticence.  He  was  unquestionably  a  good  man, 
but  his  manners  were  cold,  stern,  forbidding,  self-con- 
tained, having  in  them  no  tender  glow  of  sympathy. 
A  confirmed  recluse,  he  sought  no  companionship,  en- 
couraged none.  While  scrupulously  attentive  to  the 
sick  and  painstaking  in  his  pulpit  performances,  he 
paid  no  further  attention  to  his  parishioners,  neither 
visiting  their  houses  nor  encouraging  them  to  visit  his, 
thus  walling  in  himself  and  his  family  with  complete 
social  isolation.  He  not  only  kept  himself  aloof  from 
the  neighborhood  but  from  his  own  family  circle, 
going  so  far  as  even  to  habitually  order  his  meals 
to  be  sent  to  his  study.  So  frigid  was  his  ordinary 
deportment  and  so  methodic  were  his  life-habits,  that 
one  would  be  apt  to  mistake  him  for  an  automaton  of 
whalebone  and  iron.  Yet  now  and  then  would  come 
bursts  of  passion,  which  even  his  marvellous  might  of 
will  could  not  repress.  But  instead  of  storming  with 
his  tongue,  or  moodily  lowering  with  knit  brows,  or 
madly  striking  the  offender,  as  is  the  common  wont, 
he  never  having  been  known  to  speak  a  harsh  word  or 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  3Q5 

give  a  blow,  he  would  vent  his  wrath  by  discharging 
in  quick  succession  the  barrels  of  his  revolver,  burning 
the  hearth-rug  and  drinking  in  the  odor  as  if  it  were 
the  sweet  breath  of  flowers ;  or  by  ripping  the  teeth  of 
his  saw  into  chair-legs  and  tables.  It  was  one  of  his 
theories  that  a  country  parson's  family  should  in  their 
diet  and  wardrobe  set  an  example  of  strict  simplicity. 
He  was  no  niggard,  only  notional.  He  also  thought 
thus  to  make  his  children  bodily  and  mentally  robust. 
Regarding  meat  as  a  luxury,  he  placed  it  under  ban.  He 
relentlessly  threw  into  the  fire  some  shoes  that  had  been 
sent  to  his  children  by  some  kind  friend,  thinking  them 
too  gay.  His  wife  once  had  a  brightly  colored  silk  dress 
presented  her,  but,  knowing  that  it  would  displease 
him  to  see  her  with  it  on,  she  quietly  laid  it  away  in 
one  of  her  bureau-drawers.  One  day  he  espied  it,  and 
quick  as  thought  slit  it  into  shreds.  He  had  one  dread, 
and  but  one,  that  of  fire.  This  was  so  intense  that  he 
would  allow  no  curtains  or  drapery  of  any  kind  about 
the  house,  and  forbade  his  daughters  wearing  any  dress 
not  made  of  silk  or  wool.  His  own  clothes  were  of 
Quaker  plainness,  with  a  single  laughable  exception. 
He  would  luxuriate  in  a  cravat  periodically  covered  by 
himself  with  white  lutestring  silk.  The  stock  increased 
in  size  the  longer  it  was  worn,  for  its  silken  jacket  was 
never  removed,  until  at  last  it  became  so  immense  that 
half  of  the  parson's  head  was  enveloped  in  it.  He  never 
indulged  his  children  in  toys,  or  picture-books,  or  play- 
mates, so  fearful  was  he  of  enervating  their  minds. 
His  nature  seemed  to  have  no  dramatic  element  in  it. 
He  had  no  power  of  putting  himself  in  some  one  else's 
place,  firmly  believing  that  as  his  style  of  mental  life 

14* 


306  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

was  healthful  and  relishable  to  him  it  must  necessarily 
be  so  to  every  one,  no  matter  of  what  age  or  tempera- 
ment. This  his  Spartan  method  of  treatment  neces- 
sarily worked  sad  havoc  on  young  sensitive  hearts, 
and  it  had  especial  power  for  evil  from  the  fact  that 
the  gentle-natured  mother  lay  for  a  long  while  in  her 
sick-chamber  helpless,  eaten  with  cancer,  waiting  with 
sweetest  Christian  patience  the  coming  of  the  death- 
angel. 

Servants  managed  the  house.  The  six  frail  little  ones, 
the  oldest  but  eight  years  of  age,  thus  so  sadly  orphaned, 
nestled  all  the  more  closely  together  in  their  chill  upper 
room  to  read  and  talk  in  muffled  whispers,  or  wander 
out,  hand  in  hand,  over  the  desolate  moors.  The  suf- 
ferer at  last  found  her  long-coveted  relief.  The  father 
continued  crusting  over  every  kindly  impulse  with 
more  confirmed  unsocial  eccentricities,  and  hushed  the 
house  into  lonelier  quiet.  A  twelvemonth  after,  a 
maiden  aunt  came  from  Penzance,  but  her  notional  dis- 
content brought  no  sunshine  inside  those  cold  stone 
walls,  her  conscientious  discharge  of  duty  winning  only 
a  chill  respect  that  never  melted  into  love.  She,  how- 
ever, schooled  the  children  in  useful  in-door  industries 
and  established  in  them  habits  of  thrift.  Mr.  Bronte 
for  a  time  personally  attended  to  their  scholarship,  and, 
as  his  mind  was  possessed  of  great  native  strength  and 
method,  his  teaching,  while  it  lasted,  was  undoubtedly 
faithful  and  efficient. 

The  children  evinced  at  an  early  age  brilliant  intel- 
lectual gifts  and  strongly-marked  traits  of  character. 
They  would  sit  for  hours  listening  with  evident  relish 
to  their  elder  sister  Maria  as  she  read  the  newspaper 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  3Q7 

debates  on  local  and  foreign  political  issues  of  the  day, 
or  the  still  more  mature  and  close  reasonings  in  books 
from  the  rector's  carefully-selected  library. 

In  July,  1824,  Maria  and  Elizabeth,  the  two  eldest 
children,  were  taken  to  Cowan  Bridge  school,  and  in 
September  following  Charlotte  and  Emily  were  destined 
to  join  them  company  in  that  prison-house  of  suffering, 
whose  tragic  incidents  during  their  few  months7  stay 
found  a  quarter  of  a  century  after  such  vivid  coloring 
in  the  story  of  "Jane  Eyre,"  so  deeply  graven  were  the 
impressions  of  those  times  on  the  memory  of  a  girl  of 
eight.  Under  the  baleful  influence  of  damp  rooms, 
scant  clothing,  unwholesome  food,  and  harsh  discipline, 
the  scholars  rapidly  became  depressed  and  fell  an  easy 
prey  to  a  low  infectious  fever  that  stretched  forty  on  the 
beds  of  the  hospital.  Though  the  Brontes  escaped  the 
poisonous  fangs  of  the  typhus,  Maria  and  Elizabeth 
languished  into  consumption  similarly  induced,  and 
before  the  year  ended  slept  with  their  mother  in  the 
crowded  church-yard  at  Ha  worth. 

Charlotte  and  Emily  in  the  autumn  following  again 
rejoined  the  sadly-broken  family  circle.  In  their  little 
upper  room  the  children  again  rekindled  their  quaint 
enthusiasm  over  the  intricate  themes  that  perplexed 
politics  and  letters,  and  again  hand  in  hand  renewed 
their  loved  rambles  over  the  heathery  moors.  Their 
daily  animated  discussions  gave  them  readiness  and  pre- 
cision of  thought  and  expression,  corrected  misappre- 
hension, developed  taste,  formed  and  confirmed  opinions, 
riveted  attention,  sharpened  appetite,  and  developed  the 
native  piquancy  and  force  of  individualism  that  lay 
latent  in  their  natures.  This  was  not  all.  Cut  off  from 


308  VIEWS   ON   VEXED  QUESTIONS. 

the  social  pleasures  that  commonly  flavor  life,  and  thus 
forced  back  upon  their  own  innate  resources  of  enjoy- 
ment, their  imaginations,  as  quantities  of  preserved 
manuscript  poems,  magazines,  novelettes,  and  dramas 
abundantly  testify,  under  the  stimulus  of  this  intimate 
and  uninterrupted  interchange  of  sympathy,  and  the 
weird  dream-state  consequent  upon  a  secluded  life,  even 
thus  early  gave  golden  promise  of  their  afterward  sus- 
tained and  lofty  flights. 

Charlotte,  in  1830,  when  she  was  but  fourteen  years 
of  age,  made  out  a  catalogue  of  twenty-two  manuscript 
volumes  of  her  own  composition  during  the  fifteen 
months  preceding,  and  each  of  these  volumes  contained 
from  sixty  to  one  hundred  of  not  only  closely  but  almost 
microscopically  written  pages. 

It  is  said  that  Mr.  Bronte,  following  some  odd  im- 
pulse, would  occasionally  emerge  from  his  seclusion, 
seat  himself  at  the  table  where  these  remarkably  imr- 
ginative  children  were  taking  their  meals,  and  relate, 
with  that  startling  vividness  and  vigor  of  delineation 
for  which  he  seems  to  have  had  an  especial  gift,  half- 
legendary  tales  of  rough  Yorkshire  life,  or  would  recall 
his  own  wild  youth  in  old  Ireland.  A  grim  smile  of 
triumph  would  play  over  his  features  as,  depicting  scene 
after  scene,  he  saw  the  eyes  of  his  little  auditors  dilate 
with  rising  horror.  How  he  dared  thus  trifle  with  their 
impressible  natures,  or  how  they  endured  such  mental 
tension,  may  well  excite  our  wonder. 

In  that  circle  was  one  listener  whom  no  phantom 
could  fright,  but  along  whose  nerves  ran  wild  ecstasy 
as  about  her  the  electric  air  grew  livid  with  bursting 
bolts  of  some  tempest  of  passion.  She  seemed  to  glory 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  3Q9 

in  the  onrush  of  the  storm,  for  she  would  afterward 
recount  to  her  sisters  by  the  hour  some  of  those  scenes 
whose  grim  grotesqueness  had  so  fascinated  her  fancy. 
It  was  she  out  of  whose  morbid  musings,  begun  here, 
sprang,  years  after,  that  man-monster,  Heathcliff,  which 
glares  out  at  us  from  the  pages  of  "  Wuthering  Heights." 
For  six  years  these  orphaned  children  thus  nestled 
together,  forming  a  little  world  of  their  own,  and  find- 
ing in  each  other  sympathy  and  endearment.  Then 
came  forced  separations  and  poignant  griefs.  One  after 
another  the  sisters  sallied  out  as  governesses ;  but  they 
were  too  timid  and  sensitive  for  such  a  life.  They 
looked  forward  with  keen  anticipation  to  their  Christ- 
mas reunions  in  the  old  study-room  or  out  on  the  pur- 
ple moors.  It  was  their  wont,  after  the  lights  were 
extinguished  and  sleep  had  hushed  the  household,  to 
pace  the  floor  arm  in  arm,  recounting  the  year's  expe- 
riences and  talking  over  in  the  freest  manner  their  latest 
efforts  in  verse  and  story.  It  was  then  they  conceived 
the  plan  of  joint  authorship.  Their  first  literary  ad- 
venture, a  little  volume  of  poems,  harvested  for  them, 
however,  only  expense  and  chagrin.  We  could  right- 
fully expect  no  other  issue,  for,  while  quiet  beauties 
may  here  and  there  be  met  with,  the  usual  tone  of 
thought  is  too  depressing  to  interest  the  general  reader. 
Resolving  then  to  open  a  private  school,  hoping  thereby 
to  be  able  to  keep  together,  Charlotte  and  Emily  crossed 
to  the  Continent,  put  themselves  under  the  best  training, 
and  pursued  their  studies  with  indefatigable  zeal,  but, 
as  far  as  their  present  scheme  was  concerned,  all  to  no 
purpose,  for  they  solicited  patronage  earnestly  but  in 
vain.  Thus  ended  their  second  attempt  at  solving  the 


310  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

difficult  problem  of  self-support.  To  darken  all,  their 
gifted  brother  Branwell,  the  very  light  of  their  eyes, 
was  found  fast  driving,  passion-blind,  against  the  black 
rocks  of  ruin.  He  was  a  boy  of  the  brightest  promise; 
but  the  very  brilliancy  of  his  gifts  destroyed  him,  for 
his  sunny  temper,  quick  repartee,  and  fascinating  narra- 
tion, that  made  him  the  remark  and  pride  of  the  village, 
called  around  him  a  crowd  of  boon  companions.  And 
so  it  was  not  long  before  the  society  of  his  sisters  lost 
its  charm  and  the  quiet  of  the  parsonage  oppressed  him. 
Inheriting  in  full  measure  his  father's  impulsiveness 
and  restless  activity,  but  not  his  iron  strength  of  will, 
left  by  his  father  without  restraint  or  guidance,  he  nat- 
urally fell  into  deepest  dissipation,  that  ended  in  moral 
and  physical  wreck.  In  his  last  act  he  displayed  that 
peculiar  Bronte  trait  of  absolute  fearlessness  which  had 
ever  characterized  him.  Years  before,  when  but  a  speck 
of  a  boy,  he  had  threatened  to  thrash  a  group  of  burly 
fellows  any  one  of  whom  could  have  picked  him  up 
with  thumb  and  finger.  Now  when  death  came,  at 
whose  summons  he  had  every  reason  to  start  back  in 
wildest  consternation,  he  promptly  sprang  to  his  feet 
and  with  unflinching  nerves  continued  standing  until 
his  soul  exchanged  worlds. 

The  three  sisters  made  a  second  attempt  at  joint 
authorship,  this  time  in  the  department  of  fiction. 
"Wuthering  Heights/'  "Agnes  Grey,"  and  "The 
Professor,"  were  despatched  to  London.  After  re- 
peated refusals,  the  first  two  at  last  found  a  publisher, 
but  they  were  wellnigh  cruelly  strangled  at  birth  by 
the  cold  condemnation  of  the  critics. 

"  The  Professor,"  after  having  been  six  times  de- 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  311 

clined,  once  quite  curtly,  Charlotte  at  last  laid  quietly 
by  among  her  private  papers.  This  new  enterprise  the 
sisters  went  about  in  a  very  quaint  way.  First  they 
freely  talked  over  the  plots  and  personages,  even  went 
so  far  as  to  fix  upon  the  names  of  the  principal  charac- 
ters. Then,  gathering  around  the  sitting-room  table, 
they  followed  silently  each  her  own  rapidly  rising 
fancies.  Late  in  the  evening,  after  all  others  had  re- 
tired, they  would  pace  through  the  room,  arm  in  arm, 
as  had  been  their  former  habit,  reading  and  criticising 
their  work  without  thought  of  reserve  or  fear  of  offend- 
ing, so  perfect  seemed  their  loving  confidence.  There 
is  a  charm  in  this  home-picture  that  suggests  some 
other  brighter  world  than  this. 

"  Wuthering  Heights/7  despite  its  defects,  is  a  work 
of  singular  power.  After  we  have  once  commenced  to 
turn  its  pages,  we  find  we  have  pushed  our  skiff  out 
into  some  resistless  current  of  thought  and  passion. 
We  may  be  painfully  conscious  of  sweeping  madly 
toward  some  plunging  cataract,  whose  distant  roar 
comes  to  us  even  from  the  first,  when  the  wind  is  fair ; 
yet  we  are  in  the  fierce  clutch  of  the  rapids  and  must  go 
right  on.  Though  there  is  scarcely  a  ray  of  sunshine,  a 
form  of  grace,  a  tint  of  beauty  in  the  entire  book;  though 
scene  follows  scene  in  which  human  nature  appears  at 
its  very  worst, — is  absolutely  damnable,  devilish ;  yet 
such  is  Emily  Bronte's  extraordinary  creative  might, 
such  her  subtile  analysis  of  emotion  and  motive,  such 
her  freshness,  vividness,  vigor  of  touch,  such  her  bold, 
untrammelled  spirit,  there  is  in  all  she  delineates  such 
living  reality  and  intensity  of  feeling,  that  we  are  held 
till  the  close  as  bewitched  as  was  the  belated  wedding 


3J2  VIEWS   ON    VEXED   qUESTIONS. 

guest  in  Coleridge's  "  Ancient  Mariner."  This  book  is 
unquestionably  of  morbid  mood ;  it  lacks  artistic  pro- 
portion ;  has  little  or  no  moral  perspective ;  is  per- 
vaded with  feverish  unrest,  with  fierce  relentlessness  of 
spirit.  The  whole  story  seems  struck  through  with 
the  horrors  of  nightmare  and  distempered  dream,  the 
deep  undertone  of  melancholy  here  and  there  breaking 
out  into  a  perceptible  wail,  at  times  almost  into  a 
maniac  raving. 

Yet  this  juvenile  work  of  an  untrained  English  girl 
is  in  many  respects  a  masterpiece.  Its  creations  are 
wonderful.  Heathcliif,  the  two  Catherines,  and  Here- 
ton  Earnshaw  are  as  distinctively  original,  and  are  as 
vividly,  powerfully  drawn,  as  any  personages  in  the 
plays  of  Shakespeare.  None  of  her  critics,  not  even 
those  most  unsparing  in  their  condemnation,  have  had 
the  hardihood  to  deny  her  rare  creative  genius.  In 
the  first  place  she  chooses  for  her  hero  one  who  in  his 
character  and  career  discloses  to  us  the  abysmal  depths 
of  the  most  hellish  human  personality  ever  conceived. 
From  the  time  when,  as  a  nameless  waif,  he  is  tossed 
ashore  on  that  wild  night,  until  the  hour  his  grasp  on 
life  and  on  his  own  dark  purposes  of  revenge  relaxes, 
he  signally  fails  in  a  single  instance  to  command  our 
admiration  or  to  elicit  our  sympathy.  We  grow  solicit- 
ous, not  that  he  should  reform,  for  of  that  we  soon 
abandon  all  hope;  not  that  he  should  triumph  at  last 
over  those  whose  scorn  and  rebuff  had  kindled  in  him 
the  flames  of  hell ;  not  that  he  should  win  the  hand  of 
the  girl  whose  heart,  in  the  fulness  of  its  wild  passion, 
had  long  been  his;  but  we  rather  grow  solicitous  lest, 
with  his  consummate  cunning  and  cruelty,  through 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  313 

which  for  a  season  he  seems  irresistible,  he  should  to 
the  last  devastate  unchecked  and  encounter  no  Neme- 
sis. 

E.  P.  Whipple  has  said,  "  Compared  with  Heath- 
cliff,  Squeers  is  considerate  and  Quilp  humane.  He  is 
a  deformed  monster,  whom  the  Mephistopheles  of 
Goethe  would  have  nothing  to  say  to,  whom  the  Satan 
of  Milton  would  consider  as  an  object  of  disgust,  and 
to  whom  Dante  would  hesitate  in  awarding  the  honor 
of  a  place  among  those  whom  he  has  consigned  to  the 
burning  pitch.  He  is  an  epitome  of  brutality  dis- 
avowed by  man  and  devil."  He  further  remarks  that 
"  the  author  appears  to  think  that  spiritual  wickedness 
is  a  combination  of  animal  ferocities,  and  has  accord- 
ingly made  a  compendium  of  the  most  striking  quali- 
ties of  tiger,  wolf,  cur,  and  wild-cat,  in  the  hope  of 
framing  out  of  such  elements  a  suitable  brute-demon  to 
serve  as  the  hero  of  the  novel." 

In  the  pages  of  the  "  North  American  Review"  of 
1848  he  greeted  this  work  on  its  first  presentation  to 
an  American  public  in  these  and  other  like  withering 
words  of  scorn,  adjudging  the  author's  talents  worse 
than  wasted.  The  tone  of  the  English  press  was,  if 
possible,  even  more  severe. 

Eminent  critics  have  differed  very  widely  in  their 
decisions, — one  remarking  that  "the  characters  are 
vivid,  and  if  we  may  hope  they  are  singular  we  also 
feel  that  they  are  real;"  another,  "'Wuthering  Heights' 
is  a  literary  curiosity,  unmistakably  the  work  of  a  strong 
mind,  into  which  the  wild  scenery  of  the  north  has 
deeply  sunken,  but  it  shows  absolutely  no  comprehen- 
sion of  human  character.  We  are  transplanted  to  a 


314  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    qUESTIONS. 

dream-land,  enveloped  in  a  lurid  thunderous  atmosphere, 
through  which  stalk  fantastic  giant  beings,  gloomy  and 
devilish  in  their  utter  wickedness.  It  is  the  production 
of  a  powerful  imagination,  but  of  an  imagination  un- 
restrained by  any  experience  of  the  real." 

This  discrepancy  in  judgment  I  conceive  has  arisen 
from  a  radical  misconception  of  the  principal  personage. 
Heath  cliff  was  unquestionably  insane,  his  aberration 
extending  as  far  back  at  least  as  that  evening  when, 
from  a  conversation  accidentally  overheard,  the  cruel 
revelation  flashed  upon  him  that  Catherine,  despite  her 
secret  love,  had  in  her  proud  spirit  of  caste  discarded 
him  as  unworthy  of  her  social  recognition.  If  we 
study  Heathcliff  in  the  light  of  this  suggestion  we  shall 
find  that  much  of  the  apparent  extravagance  of  the 
author's  conception  will  disappear,  that  the  character  is 
not  only  consistent  in  itself,  a  point  which  all  allow,  but 
is  in  every  feature  human. 

Heathcliff  was  of  vigorous  mind,  morose  temper,  vol- 
canic passion,  supreme  selfishness.  He  loved  Cathe- 
rine with  all  the  vehemence  of  a  strong  and  intense 
nature.  The  fact  of  his  obscure  birth  was  to  him 
deeply  humiliating.  The  slightest  allusion  to  it  stung 
him  to  the  quick.  And  now  when  the  soft  white  hand 
of  his  Catherine  shut  in  his  face  the  door  of  hope  his 
whole  thought  passed  into  eclipse.  A  mental  and 
moral  madness  followed  the  glare  and  shock  of  that 
falling  thunderbolt,  from  which  he  never  rallied.  By- 
ron had  in  him  wellnigh  all  the  hellish  possibilities  of 
a  Heathcliff.  A  drop  more  of  bitterness  in  the  chalice 
which  fate  and  his  own  perverseness  pressed  to  his  lips 
would  have  crazed  him.  The  fierce,  tiger-like  impetu- 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  315 

osity  with  which  Heathcliif  poured  out  his  love  to 
Catherine  in  her  death-chamber,  their  wild  fatal  em- 
brace, his  life-long  unquestioning  faith  in  her  return, 
his  nightly  tryst  in  the  haunted  room  and  on  the  lonely 
grave,  his  frantic  reaching  out  to  clasp  her  hand  thrust 
in  at  the  open  window,  and  his  mental  agony  as  he  saw 
it  vanish  again  into  the  night,  the  peculiar  causes  of  his 
death,  insomnia  and  loathing  of  food,  are  all  unmis- 
takable evidences  of  brain-lesion.  Through  twenty 
years  he  thus  lived  in  close  strange  converse  with  the 
wraiths  of  his  imagination.  To  him  they  were  instinct 
with  breathing  life.  That  other  phase  of  character, 
that  in  which  is  disclosed  to  us  a  deeper,  blacker  hell 
of  hate  than  the  sombre  genius  of  the  Florentine  poet 
ventured  to  picture  in  his  "  Inferno,"  bears  also  to  me 
convincing  proofs  of  a  disordered  mind.  When  pur- 
poses of  revenge  become  through  one  score  years  of 
mature  life  so  completely  the  dominant  passion  of  any 
individual  as  to  destroy  in  its  fierce  heat  every  trace  of 
tenderness,  of  sympathy,  or  even  of  contrition, — to 
prompt  the  sundering  of  every  social  tie,  to  lay  waste 
not  only  every  spiritual  hope  and  aspiration,  but  every 
earthly  one,  to  compel  the  lost  soul  to  retire  within  the 
fearful  privacy  of  its  own  accursed  thought  as  com- 
pletely and  hopelessly  as  if  shut  up  within  the  solitary 
cell  of  a  mediaeval  dungeon, — then  we  may  rest  assured 
there  has  been  inaugurated  the  iron  absolutism  of  mono- 
mania. Sucli  a  being  is  no  longer  a  man,  or  even  a 
demon,  but  simply  an  infuriated  brute-monster.  He 
has  sunk  below  the  level  of  moral  motive,  his  acts  ex- 
hibiting the  appalling  possibilities  of  man's  animal  in- 
stincts and  intellectual  faculties  when  once  released 


316  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

from  the  control  of  their  master.  Such  was  Heathcliff. 
He  spread  his  net  and  watched  with  fiendish  grin  one 
victim  after  another  struggling  helplessly  in  its  meshes. 
The  gaming-table,  the  maddening  cup,  deceit,  bribes, 
threats,  imprisonment,  the  noblest  and  the  basest  pas- 
sions, the  tenderest  ties,  the  holiest  aspirations,  the 
fondest  hopes,  were  all  used  by  him  with  most  consum- 
mate adroitness  and  nonchalance  to  further  his  deep- 
laid  scheme  of  villany.  The  brother  of  his  Catherine, 
and  that  brother's  bright  and  beautiful  boy,  Catherine's 
daughter,  his  own  wife  and  dying  child,  were  regarded 
by  him  but  as  so  many  pieces  on  his  chess-board.  The 
measures  he  adopted  had  all  that  marvellous  cunning 
and  relentlessness  characteristic  of  madmen.  He  ut- 
terly refused  companionship,  repelled  even  all  neighbor- 
hood civilities.  His  victims,  whose  deadly  hatred  for  him 
broke  out  perpetually,  constituted  his  family  circle,  and 
these  he  forced  daily  into  his  presence.  This  veritable 
pandemonium  was  to  him  a  lordly  pleasure-house.  He 
revelled  in  its  turbulence.  The  order  of  nature  seemed 
in  him  thus  so  reversed  in  every  respect  that  I  have 
no  hesitancy  in  pronouncing  him  smitten  with  incurable 
madness. 

It  is  possible  thus  to  exonerate  this  book  from  the 
charge  of  extravagance.  It  is  also  possible  to  free  it 
from  a  far  graver  charge,— that  of  immoral  tendency. 
So  eminent  a  critic  as  Bayne  has  remarked  "  that  works 
like  that  of  Edgar  Poe  and  this  ( Wuthering  Heights7 
must  be  plainly  declared  to  blunt,  to  brutalize,  and  to 
enervate  the  mind."  These  authors,  indeed,  strikingly 
resembled  each  other  in  their  analytic  and  creative  gifts 
and  in  their  weird  spirit  of  melancholy  and  mystery, 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  317 

but  in  other  respects  they  stood  in  marked  contrast. 
Poe  had  stunted,  almost  destroyed,  his  spiritual  nature. 
In  his  writings  he  studiously  avoided  all  allusion  to 
moral  sentiment.  It  was  his  evident  purpose  and  pride 
to  excel  in  literary  art  and  finesse.  He  was  never  free 
from  deliberate,  self-conscious  posing.  To  be  an  uncom- 
promising advocate  of  any  cause,  to  thrill  through  and 
through  with  some  mighty  master-passion,  was  wholly 
foreign  to  his  nature.  He  was  not  a  man  in  blood 
earnest,  had  no  high  purpose,  was  simply  a  connoisseur, 
a  literary  artist,  a  gifted  trifler,  studying  how  by  tasteful 
arrangement  of  drapery,  subtile  play  of  fancy,  skilful 
use  of  rhythm  and  the  refrain,  nice  adjustment  of 
light  and  shade,  to  produce  certain  sesthetical  or  mys- 
tical effects,  and  nothing  more.  The  influence  of  his 
genius  has,  indeed,  been  to  blunt  and  brutalize  the 
mind.  On  the  contrary,  Emily  Bronte's  searching 
glance  went  to  the  heart  of  things.  How  to  delicately, 
elegantly,  gild  some  empty  bauble  never  engaged  her 
powers.  Even  the  principal  canons  of  art  she  fearlessly 
disregarded  in  her  choice  of  a  hero  and  in  depicting 
his  career,  so  intently  determined  was  she  to  speak  out 
the  truth  that  was  in  her.  Had  she  with  prophetic  ear 
caught  the  sound  of  disparaging  criticism  that  afterward 
greeted  her  published  work,  she  would  not  in  the  least 
have  faltered  in  her  purpose.  Prospects  of  persecution 
would  not  have  deterred  her.  Her  thought  crystallized 
in  obedience  to  certain  internal  mental  laws  wholly  free 
from  those  outside  influences  that  generally  modify, 
through  hopes  or  fears,  the  productions  of  other  authors. 
To  breathe  this  atmosphere  of  intrepidity  and  utter 
unworldliness  would  elevate,  not  enervate ;  brace,  not 


318  VIEWS  ON    VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

blunt,  the  mind.  But,  urge  her  critics,  it  is  brutalizing 
to  have  laid  bare  before  us  so  black  a  heart  as  Heath- 
cliff's,  to  be  made  familiar  with  the  details  of  his  life  of 
infamy.  Yet  Dante  has  drawn  pictures  of  the  wicked- 
ness and  woes  of  the  damned  of  such  startling  vivid- 
ness that  they  will  never  fade  out  of  men's  memories. 
Six  hundred  years  have  rolled  away  since  those  con- 
ceptions of  hate  and  horror  found  being  in  his  brain, 
and  now  our  own  Longfellow,  whom  we  lovingly  re- 
gard as  fit  representative  of  the  culture  of  the  American 
mind  of  the  nineteenth  century,  has  adjudged  this  me- 
diaeval poem  worthy  of  being  presented  in  his  graceful 
and  finished  verse  to  all  English-speaking  people. 
Milton  chose  Satan  as  the  central  figure  in  that  grand 
epic  which  he  purposed  should  be  the  crowning  work 
of  his  life,  which  he  enriched  with  the  ripest  learning 
of  his  time,  and  which  will  ever  be  regarded  as  the 
consummate  flower  of  his  genius.  He  is  open  to  criti- 
cism, not  that  he  has  uncapped  hell,  but  that  he  has  ren- 
dered it  dangerously  possible  for  his  readers,  charmed 
by  the  too  kindly  glow  of  his  imagination,  to  entertain 
feelings  of  pity,  if  not  of  admiration,  for  the  thunder- 
scarred  leader  of  heaven's  rebel  hosts.  And  Shake- 
speare, the  third  and  brightest  star  in  that  constellation 
whose  silver  radiance  is  the  glory  of  this  night  of  time, 
has  left  us  lago  and  the  daughters  of  King  Lear.  Life's 
voyagers  sail  treacherous  seas.  Rocks  and  whirlpools 
and  sand-bars  hide  their  couchant  forms  amid  tumbling 
billows  watching  for  their  prey.  It  is  well  that  bright 
beacons  lit  by  the  torch  of  genius  blaze  out  here  and 
there  their  timely  warning  over  the  waters.  It  is  well 
that  a  Heathcliif,  at  the  call  of  a  conjurer,  is  forced  to 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  319 

stalk  forth  in  all  his  revolting  deformity  out  of  the 
dim  region  of  shadow  and  dream  into  the  broad  gaze 
of  the  world  ;  for  how  many  there  are  that  are  liable  to 
fall  as  low  as  he,  if  in  some  evil  hour  they  yield  them- 
selves to  the  malign  influences  that  lie  in  wait  for  their 
souls  !  We  need  to  have  our  torpid,  tame  imaginations 
kindled  into  juster  conceptions  of  the  appalling  possi- 
bilities wrapped  up  with  the  deathless  powers  of  every 
one  of  us.  There  are  thrown  over  the  misery  and  mean- 
ness of  this  monster  no  half-hiding  flowing  folds  of  the 
silken  robe  of  sentimentality.  He  stands  out  in  all  his 
naked  ugliness,  loveless  and  unloved,  blasted  and  black 
as  the  sides  of  volcanic  gorges,  lost  to  hope,  lost  even 
to  desire. 

But,  while  defending  this  book  against  the  charge  of 
extravagance  by  showing  Heathcliff  to  have  been  de- 
ranged, it  may  seem  that  I  have  exposed  it  to  the  criti- 
cism that  madmen,  instead  of  being  thus  pushed  into 
the  foreground  of  an  exciting  work  of  fiction,  should 
be  remanded  to  the  privacy  of  a  medical  asylum  and 
studied  only  by  trained  alienists  for  purposes  of  cure. 
I  must  allow  that  ordinarily  the  introduction  of  such 
heroes  would  be  far  from  defensible ;  but  the  truths  that 
are  thus  disclosed  and  indelibly  impressed  on  heart  and 
conscience  are  of  such  transcendent  moment  that  a  writer 
with  a  genius  as  peculiarly  fitted  as  was  Emily  Bronte's 
to  perform  successfully  this  most  difficult  of  tasks  has 
unquestionably  received  a  commission  from  the  skies. 
We  need  shrill  clarions  of  alarm  now  and  then  to 
awaken  us  to  the  imminent  perils  that  threaten  our 
very  existence. 

A  bar  of  steel  smites  the  cold  face  of  a  flint,  and  a  fire- 


320  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

tigress  bounds  into  being.  A  sunbeam  glides  through 
the  moistened  walls  of  a  buried  seed,  and  a  little  fairy 
wakes  and  works  her  wonders.  A  telegram  comes 
flashing  in  along  some  line  of  nerve,  and  a  mysterious 
mental  life  begins  in  the  brain.  These  three  distinctive 
forms  of  force,  the  chemical,  the  vital,  and  the  mental, 
linked  and  subordinated  in  every  individual,  the  lower 
to  the  higher,  are  all  servitors  of  the  soul  by  God's  ap- 
pointing. They  work  only  under  certain  fixed  condi- 
tions and  with  undeviating  regularity.  Their  natures, 
widely  different,  never  change,  but  like  slave-genii  each 
promptly  obeys  the  behests  of  the  one  set  in  authority 
over  it.  The  measure  of  this  mastery  is  the  measure 
of  health ;  its  loss  marks  the  inroads  of  disease.  The 
chemical  forces  no  sooner  detect  the  weakening  of  the 
vital  than  they  begin  to  break  down  the  very  tissues  it 
has  been  their  tasks  till  then  to  build  up  and  maintain. 
The  mental  no  sooner  relax  their  grasp  on  the  vital, 
neglect  to  restrain  or  guide,  than  the  propensities  and 
passions,  the  lusts  and  longings  of  the  flesh  rise  in  mad 
mob  and  deafening  clamor.  And  so  too  those  ceaseless 
currents  of  our  thought,  which  wre  may  quicken  or  re- 
tard or  direct,  but  can  never  stay,  grow  morbid  and 
mischievous  without  a  master. 

At  the  first  over  this  wide  empire  of  force  the  soul  sat 
sovereign,  not  a  rebel  in  all  her  realm.  Now  there  is  not 
a  province  in  peace,  but  riots  ripening  into  revolutions 
threaten  her  throne.  We  are  diseased,  every  one  of  us, 
but  we  are  apt  to  underestimate  our  maladies  and  de- 
ceive ourselves  into  false  security  until  at  last  no  reme- 
dies can  reach  us.  What  we  need  is  to  be  brought, 
through  vivid  and  powerful  portrayals  by  gifted  minds, 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  321 

to  realize  that  in  each  department  of  our  complex 
nature  there  has  been  established  a  death-line ;  that  the 
vital,  the  mental,  and  the  moral  forces  may  each  tem- 
porize with  the  insurgents  in  its  kingdom  until  it  be- 
comes utterly  impossible  to  quell  them  into  quiet.  The 
vital  will  sooner  or  later  be  vanquished,  our  clay  tene- 
ments will  disintegrate  to  dust.  We  may  delay  the 
day  of  doom,  but  innumerable  diseases,  through  vicious 
indulgence  and  through  hostile  environment,  subtile 
poisons  in  earth  and  air,  have  alarmingly  shortened 
human  generations  and  made  the  world  a  crowded 
graveyard.  Our  intellectual  and  our  moral  faculties 
are  equally  in  danger,  equally  require  the  rigid  sur- 
veillance of  our  savans  of  science.  Let  the  career  of 
Heathcliif  warn  us  against  the  first  uprising  of  preju- 
dice or  blind  passion.  Whenever  any  thought  or  emo- 
tion has  gained  undue  prominence,  whenever  the  di- 
rective power  of  the  will  is  weakened,  we  are  actually 
the  victims  of  temporary  insanity ;  we  have,  in  a  meas- 
ure, lost  our  liberty;  and  the  longer  we  delay  asserting 
our  self-supremacy,  the  less  our  chances  of  asserting  it 
successfully.  There  was  a  time  when  Heathcliff  could, 
by  the  recuperative  energy  he  still  retained  within  him- 
self or  within  the  reach  of  earnest  call,  have  thrown 
off  the  incubus  of  disease ;  when  he  could  have  ruled 
out  of  his  mind  the  devils  of  hate  that  at  last  wrecked 
him.  I  feel  persuaded  here  to  add,  and  urge  with 
most  solemn  emphasis,  that  a  thorough  and  candid  in- 
vestigation of  our  own  condition  will  reveal  our  need 
of  the  help  of  some  Higher  Power  permanently  to 
free  even  those  of  us  least  enslaved.  While  I  watch 
the  hate  of  Heathcliff  grow  to  so  fierce  a  heat  that  not 

15 


322  VIEWS   ON    VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

only  every  intellectual  faculty  but  even  every  bodily 
function  is  at  last  utterly  consumed,  I  am  led  to  con- 
jecture whether  the  fire  of  madness  which  seems  to 
enwrap  with  its  inextinguishable  flame  his  very  soul 
will  not  only  discrown  and  disfigure  it,  but  by  and  by 
consume  its  very  substance,  actually  drive  it  out  of 
being. 

I  am  led  to  conjecture  still  further  whether  the 
slower,  cooler,  more  phlegmatic  temperaments  in  the 
world,  if  over  them  malign  influences  ever  gain  firm 
foothold  in  this  or  the  other  life,  will  not  fire  with 
the  same  fierce  heat  and  fall  at  the  last  into  the  same 
voiceless  void. 

We  here  see  that  evil  has  its  limitations  in  its  very 
tendency  to  derange  and  destroy  the  physical,  the  in- 
tellectual, and  perhaps  even  the  spiritual  organism  of 
those  who  surrender  themselves  to  its  sway. 

The  kinder  fates  of  the  other  personages  that  appear 
in  the  progress  of  the  story  disclose  to  us  still  further 
limitations  to  its  devastating  power,  for  it  is  arrested  by 
the  rebound  toward  goodness  of  the  young  in  Heath- 
cliff's  household,  whom  from  infancy  he  had  sought  to 
develop  into  boors  and  devils,  and  at  last,  through  his 
dying  intestate  and  their  intermarrying,  by  their  recov- 
ery from  his  robber  hands  of  their  long-lost  estates. 

Thus  this  gifted  writer  in  the  peculiar  fates  of  her 
personages  has  impressively  illustrated  the  working  of 
certain  immutable  laws  established  throughout  God's 
universe,  setting  bounds  to  evil  not  only  as  to  its  present 
power,  but,  it  may  be,  even  as  to  its  ultimate  perpetuity. 

I  have  already  briefly  enumerated  some  of  the  more 
noticeable  excellencies  as  well  as  defects  of  "  Wuther- 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  323 

ing  Heights"  as  a  work  of  art.  There  is  One  prime 
feature  to  which  I  wish  now  more  especially  to  direct 
attention.  As  we  turn  the  leaves  one  by  one  and  grad- 
ually fall  under  the  resistless  spell  of  genius,  we  realize 
when  too  late  that  we  are  driven  by  fierce  winds  help- 
lessly over  an  angry  sea.  The  heavens  are  curtained 
with  cloud.  Not  a  speck  of  sky,  not  a  ray  of  light. 
No  sound  but  the  creak  of  cordage  and  the  break  of 
billow.  The  day  dies,  and  night  and  storm  settle  on  the 
deep.  The  hours  wear  wearily  away  with  rain-beat 
and  wind-wail,  until  at  last,  after  our  hearts  have  well- 
nigh  sunk  with  dread  and  longing  and  dreariness,  the 
clouds  lift  and  roll  back  from  off  the  face  of  the  east, 
while  the  resplendent  sun  of  a  new  day  belts  them  with 
Hope's  rainbow  and  broiders  their  flowing  skirts  with 
Love's  threads  of  gold. 

To  change  the  figure.  The  writer  has  seen  fit  to  con- 
duct her  readers  through  a  dimly-lighted  gallery  of 
paintings  in  which  have  been  delineated,  with  great 
elaboration,  wickedness  and  wretchedness  in  all  their 
most  revolting  and  harrowing  phases.  Each  separate 
canvas  holds  us  by  some  weird  witchery.  We  are  in 
the  hands  of  a  Dore".  But  there  is  no  relief,  no  cheer- 
ful tint,  in  all  the  room.  The  monotony  grows  oppress- 
ive. We  soon  draw  back  with  horror.  We  feel  that 
we  have  entered  one  of  the  halls  of  Hades, — one  of  the 
picture-galleries  of  the  damned.  But  on  reaching  the 
farther  end  of  the  room  a  door  is  suddenly  thrown  open, 
and  as  we  pass  the  threshold  we  are  at  once  confronted 
with  a  flood  of  glory.  The  sunlight  is  seen  streaming 
from  above  upon  a  canvas  enlivened  with  the  most 
brilliant  tints  in  nature.  We  feel  now  the  presiding 


324  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

genius  of  a  Moran.  Over  the  prostrate  form  of  Evil 
the  spirits  of  the  Good  and  the  Glad  are  enthroned  as 
rightful  sovereigns  of  human  destiny.  It  is  barely 
possible,  though  no  critic  has  ever  suggested  such  a 
thought,  that  this  weary  monotony  of  gloom  was  in- 
tended by  the  artist  to  make  ready  her  guests,  through 
the  effects  of  contrast,  for  their  entrance  into  a  room 
made  bright  by  the  presence  of  God's  angels.  Dante 
is  led  by  Virgil  through  the  regions  of  the  damned  ere 
by  the  side  of  his  Beatrice  he  passes  the  gates  of  light. 
These  last  scenes  are  admirable  pieces  of  rapid  sketching. 
There  is  about  them  a  breeziness,  boldness,  freshness 
quite  unique.  What  authors  usually  linger  over  with 
infinite  painstaking  she  vigorously  outlines  and  leaves  to 
the  imagination  of  her  readers.  There  is,  however,  no 
vagueness,  no  neutral  tint,  no  uncertain  touch  or  tone, 
no  air  of  hurry.  The  sentences  are  crisp,  compact, 
complete.  Further  elaboration  would  have  simply 
rendered  the  pictures  less  suggestive  and  stimulating. 

While  this  novel  as  a  work  of  art  is  somewhat  defen- 
sible on  the  grounds  indicated,  it  cannot  be  denied  that 
established  canons  have  been  disregarded,  and  the  fact 
that  they  have  been,  and  that,  too,  in  a  spirit  of  ap- 
parent recklessness,  demands  explanation.  An  author 
will  not  thoughtlessly  shut  out  her  hero  thus  from  the 
reader's  sympathy,  for  such  a  course  greatly  jeopardizes, 
and  ordinarily  would  absolutely  preclude,  literary  suc- 
cess, since  the  reader's  abhorrence  must  increase  with 
each  new  unfolding,  however  admirable  may  be  the 
author's  skill  in  disentangling  the  threads  of  circum- 
stance. Emily  could  but  realize  the  risks  she  incurred. 
She  must  have  known  that  the  reader  would  demand 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  325 

ample  compensation  for  the  loss  of  that  loving  sympa- 
thy with  which  he  usually  watches  the  shifting  fortunes 
of  the  heroes  of  story.  The  explanation  is  to  be  found 
in  the  marvellous  make-up  of  the  woman  herself,  and 
in  her  strange  surroundings.  The  untamed  blood  of 
the  Titans  certainly  coursed  through  the  veins  of  this 
shy,  reticent  girl ;  for  there  was  in  her  love  of  nature 
something  more  than  a  sweet  poetic  sentiment,  there 
was  a  wild  ecstasy.  Her  spirit  especially  revelled  in  the 
desolate  solitude  and  unchecked  freedom  of  the  moors 
as  they  stretched  away  before  her,  in  purple  undulations, 
without  a  tree  or  confining  fence  or  human  habitation, 
with  only  the  distant  horizon-line  to  shut  them  in. 
This  phenomenal  love  found  expression  in  Catherine 
Earnshaw's  dream :  t(  I  was  only  going  to  say  that 
heaven  did  not  seem  to  be  my  home,  and  I  broke  my 
heart  with  weeping  to  come  back  to  earth,  and  the 
angels  were  so  angry  that  they  flung  me  out  into  the 
middle  of  the  heath,  on  the  top  of  Wuthering  Heights, 
where  I  woke  sobbing  with  joy." 

Swinburne  says  that  "  this  love  exhales,  as  a  fresh 
wild  odor  from  a  bleak  shrewd  soil,  from  every  storm- 
swept  page  of  '  Wuthering  Heights.'  All  the  heart  of 
the  league-long  billows  of  rolling  and  breathing  and 
brightening  heather  is  blown  with  the  breath  of  it  on 
our  faces  as  we  read ;  all  the  wind  and  all  the  sound 
and  all  the  fragrance  and  freedom  and  gloom  and  glory 
of  the  high  north  moorland." 

Her  spirits  rose  in  exultation  when  earth  and  sky 
wore  their  sterner  moods  of  tempest.  Any  fierce  war- 
ring of  nature's  mighty  elemental  forces  she  watched 
in  rapt  attention.  A  thunder-burst  thrilled  her  like 


326  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

some  grand  organ  symphony.  Even  in  the  desolate 
aspects  of  winter  she  found  a  charm.  She  never  sought 
or  craved  companionship,  was  remarkably  self-con- 
tained ;  even  her  sisters  caught  but  occasional  glimpses 
of  her  inner  life.  She  had  been  appointed  to  live  apart. 
She  once  sallied  out  as  a  governess,  but  society's  con- 
ventionalities were  to  her  unyielding  prison-bars.  This 
caged  eagle  sickened  and  would  soon  have  died  had  she 
not  been  restored  again  to  the  solitude  and  freedom  of 
the  heath  hills  of  stern  old  Yorkshire.  Her  reserve 
was  so  intense  that  when  dying  she  refused,  it  is  said,  to 
admit  even  to  her  sisters  that  she  was  ill,  and  they  had 
to  see  her  fade  before  their  eyes  without  being  permitted 
to  perform  any  of  those  offices  of  love  which  are  the 
heart's  only  consolation  in  such  an  hour. 

Her  spirit  was  of  masculine  mould ;  nothing  could 
intimidate  her.  She  had  in  marvellous  measure  the 
Bronte  iron  nerve  and  strength  of  will.  She  mastered 
and  made  her  constant  mate  one  of  the  most  powerful, 
sullen,  and  ferocious  dogs  in  all  that  region.  He  was 
one  of  the  chief  mourners  at  her  grave,  slept  afterward 
every  night  at  the  door  of  her  old  room,  whined  for  her 
return,  and  grew  prematurely  old  from  sense  of  loss. 
When  she  on  one  occasion  was  bitten  by  a  mad  dog, 
she  promptly  seized  a  red-hot  iron  and  held  it  on  her 
arm  without  flinching  until  it  had  burnt  itself  deep  into 
her  quivering  flesh,  and  then  she  hid  for  months  the 
fearful  secret  in  her  heart  until  the  pain  and  danger 
were  past.  Death  itself  she  finally  met  with  the  utmost 
composure,  with  even  stern  defiance. 

Charlotte  says,  "  Never  in  all  her  life  had  she  lin- 
gered over  any  task  that  lay  before  her,  and  she  did  not 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  327 

Iftiger  now.  She  sank  rapidly.  She  made  haste  to 
leave  us.  Yet,  while  physically  she  perished,  mentally 
she  grew  stronger  than  we  had  yet  known  her.  Day 
by  day,  when  I  saw  with  what  a  front  she  met  suffering, 
I  looked  on  her  with  an  anguish  of  wonder  and  love. 
I  have  seen  nothing  like  it;  but  indeed  I  have  never 
seen  her  parallel  in  anything.  Stronger  than  a  man, 
simpler  than  a  child,  her  nature  stood  alone.  The 
awful  point  was,  that,  while  full  of  ruth  for  others,  on 
herself  she  had  no  pity;  the  spirit  was  inexorable  to 
the  flesh ;  from  the  trembling  hand,  the  unnerved 
limbs,  the  faded  eyes,  the  same  service  was  exacted  as 
they  had  rendered  in  health."  She  remained  resolute 
to  the  last,  refused  rest  or  medicine  or  stimulant,  and 
stoutly  denied  that  she  was  ill.  Mrs.  Gaskell  tells  us 
that  even  on  that  fatal  December  morning  she  arose 
and  dressed  herself  as  usual,  making  many  a  pause,  but 
doing  everything  herself,  even  going  on  with  her  sew- 
ing as  at  any  time  during  the  years  past,  until  suddenly 
she  laid  the  unfinished  work  aside,  whispered  faintly  to 
her  sister,  "  If  you  send  for  a  doctor  I  will  see  him 
now,"  and  in  two  hours  passed  quietly  away.  There 
was  nothing  in  her  tame,  or  commonplace,  or  affected. 
She  was  the  very  embodiment  of  individualism,  of 
spontaneity, — could  not  brook  any  patterning  after  an- 
other, was  most  emphatically  self-asserting.  Her  nature 
was  wholly  unique.  She  was  the  grand  original  out  of 
which  grew  the  character  of  Shirley,  that  brightest  and 
best  of  all  Charlotte  Bronte's  creations.  A.  J.  Nichols, 
an  English  critic,  remarks,  " f  Wuthering  Heights'  is, 
with  all  its  imperfections,  one  of  the  most  wonderful 
creations  of  female  genius.  It  is  a  rude  but  colossal 


328  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

monument  of  power ;  a  terrible  transcript  of  some  of 
the  strangest  of  the  strange  scenes  which  the  manners 
and  traditions  of  that  wild  country  had  made  familiar 
to  her  mind.  It  impresses  us  with  a  remembrance  of 
grandeur  like  a  granite  block  or  a  solitary  moor." 

Reed,  in  his  recent  volume,  says,  "  Surely  nowhere 
in  modern  English  fiction  can  more  striking  proof  be 
found  of  the  possession  of  the  creative  gift  in  an  ex- 
traordinary degree  than  is  to  be  obtained  in  '  Wuthering 
Heights/  How  vast  the  intellectual  greatness  displayed 
in  this  juvenile  work !  From  what  unfathomable  re- 
cesses of  her  intellect  did  this  shy,  nervous,  untrained 
girl  produce  such  characters  as  those  which  hold  the 
foremost  place  in  her  story  ?  Mrs.  Dean  and  Joseph 
were  perhaps  drawn  from  life.  But  Heathcliff  and  the 
two  Catherines  and  Hereton  Earnshaw,  none  of  these 
ever  came  within  the  ken  of  Emily  Bronte.  No  per- 
sons approaching  them  in  originality  or  force  of  char- 
acter were  to  be  found  in  her  circle  of  friends.  Here 
and  there  some  psychologist,  learned  in  the  secrets  of 
morbid  human  nature,  may  have  conceived  the  exist- 
ence of  such  persons, — evolved  them  from  an  inner 
consciousness  which  had  been  enlightened  by  years  of 
studious  labor.  But  no  such  slow  and  painful  process 
guided  the  pen  of  Emily  Bronte  in  painting  these  weird 
and  wonderful  portraits.  They  came  forth  with  all 
the  vigor  and  freshness,  the  living  reality  and  impres- 
siveness,  which  can  belong  only  to  the  spontaneous 
creations  of  genius.  They  are  no  copies,  indeed,  but 
living  originals,  owing  their  lives  to  her  own  travail 
and  suffering." 

These  explanations  of  the  origin  of  this  remarkable 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  329 

work,  though  eloquent  and  appreciative,  require  to  be 
supplemented  by  a  third,  which,  as  it  seems  to  me, 
the  few  but  emphatic  incidents  just  narrated  clearly 
suggest.  Here  was  the  spirit  of  an  untamable  Titan 
prisoned  in  the  frail  body  of  a  girl.  Temperament 
and  circumstances  had  absolutely  driven  her  into  almost 
utter  social  isolation.  Her  irrepressible  individualism, 
her  supreme  fearlessness,  her  restless  mental  moods, 
her  unconquerable  will,  her  eagle-plumed  fancy,  all 
peremptorily  demanded  expression.  Fiction  was  her 
only  resource,  for  God  had  in  his  inscrutable  councils 
barred  against  her  every  other  outlet.  "  Wuthering 
Heights"  is,  therefore,  regarded  by  me  with  excep- 
tional interest,  not  because  of  any  artistic  worth,  but 
because,  despite  all  its  imperfections,  it  serves  to  body 
forth  the  superb  soul  of  Emily  Bronte.  AVithout  any 
consideration  of  the  canons  of  art,  of  personal  interest 
or  of  prevailing  beliefs,  following  without  curb  or  bias 
the  promptings  of  the  voice  within  her,  this  mighty 
conjurer  summons  into  her  mental  presence  that  mon- 
ster Heathcliif  and  those  strange  companions  whose 
threads  of  destiny  seemed  with  his  inextricably  inter- 
woven. What  storms  of  devilish  passion  burst  about 
her!  The  very  hills  quake.  Fathomless  abysses  yawn 
at  her  feet,  emitting  the  sulphurous  odor  and  the  hot 
breath  of  hell.  She  watches  with  unblanched  cheek, 
rather  with  keenest  interest,  the  fearful  battling  of  those 
elemental  forces,  set  free  in  these  to  her  now  living, 
throbbing  human  hearts.  She  leads  Heath  cliff  along 
down  his  terrible  career  of  crime,  that  she  may  finally 
grapple  with  the  fell  monster,  overpower  and  trample 
him  down  to  ruin,  palsy  his  arm,  snatch  from  his  burn- 

15* 


330  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

ing  lips  the  last  cool  cup  of  pleasure,  and  then  at  the 
close  lift  his  life-long  bleeding  victims  to  victory.  She 
glories  in  the  thought  of  having  this  strong  spirit  fight 
desperately  like  one  of  Milton's  rebel  angels  to  defeat 
and  destroy  all  that  is  lovable  in  life,  and  then,  when  the 
time  is  ripe,  of  dashing  him  in  pieces  against  the  thick 
bosses  of  Jehovah's  buckler.  Emily  Bronte  stands  out 
on  the  wide  plains  of  this  world's  history  a  solitary 
mountain-peak,  rock-ribbed,  fire-seamed,  storm-defying, 
wrapped  in  proud,  peculiar  grandeur. 

The  character  of  Anne  presents  in  many  respects  a 
most  marked  contrast  to  that  of  her  sister  Emily.  The 
traveller,  in  descending  the  broken,  precipitous  sides  of 
the  Jungfrau  Alps  and  entering  the  vine-clad  valleys 
that  bask  at  their  feet,  is  no  more  impressed  with  a 
sense  of  change  than  is  he  who  turns  his  thoughts 
from  one  to  the  other  of  these  two  lives  that  throbbed 
out  their  brief  hour  amid  the  solitary  bleak  barrens  of 
Yorkshire.  All  the  loving  home  traits  were  Anne's. 
The  delicate  tendrils  of  her  aifection  twined  about  the 
hearts  of  her  sisters.  She  was  of  quiet,  meditative 
mood,  full  of  melancholy  self-distrust ;  was  gentle,  con- 
siderate, sweetly  patient;  of  widest  charity*  of  ten- 
derest  sympathy  for  the  poor  and  the  sick ;  of  unques- 
tioning Christian  faith ;  of  holiest  Christian  longing. 
Like  Emily,  "a  constitutional  reserve  and  taciturnity," 
Charlotte  tells  us,  "  placed  and  kept  her  in  the  shade 
and  covered  her  mind,  and  especially  her  feelings,  with 
a  sort  of  nun-like  veil,  which  was  rarely  lifted."  Her 
contributions  to  literature  consisted  of  a  few  poems, 
only  one  or  two  of  which  have  any  marked  merit ;  of 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  331 

the  story  of  "Agnes  Grey"  and  that  of  "Wildfell 
Hall." 

"  Agnes  Grey"  is  a  recital  in  fictitious  garb  of  some 
of  the  leading  incidents  in  her  life  as  a  governess. 
But  it  is  so  deficient  in  spirit,  is  so  replete  with  tame, 
faded  commonplace,  that  it  has  never,  from  the  first, 
elicited  the  least  interest  from  the  reading  public. 

"Wildfell  Hall,"  however,  marks  a  very  decided 
advance,  and  to  my  mind  reveals  mental  gifts  which, 
if  they  had  been  allowed  further  time  and  more  favor- 
ing opportunities,  would  have  produced  works  of  per- 
manent value.  Even  E.  P.  Whipple,  in  the  midst  of 
his  bitter,  biting  criticisms  in  the  "North  American  Re- 
view," is  forced  to  admit  that  "the  characters  are  drawn 
with  great  power  and  precision  of  outline,  and  the 
scenes  are  as  vivid  as  life  itself."  When  we  ascertain 
its  terrible  realistic  basis  and  the  grand  martyr-spirit 
in  which  its  young  author  penned  its  pages,  we  forgive 
its  defects  as  a  work  of  art  in  our  most  profound  ad- 
miration for  it  as  a  work  of  love.  Indeed,  a  moment's 
reflection  discloses  that  the  very  nature  and  intensity  of 
the  purpose  which  prompted  it  necessarily  produced 
many  of  the  defects  which  at  the  first  we  are  so  quick 
to  deplore.  Anne  had  been  completely  wrapped  up  in 
her  brother  Bramwell,  delighted  in  his  brilliant  tal- 
ents, would  have  sacrificed  her  own  prospects  in  life  to 
brighten  his.  This  attachment  was  the  one  golden 
romance  of  her  heart.  How  his  subsequent  life  of 
shame  must  have  changed  her  life  to  one  of  profound- 
est  misery!  Yet  neither  the  pleadings  of  passionate 
regard  nor  the  warnings  of  disease  had  any  power  to 
check  him  in  his  mad  career. 


332  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

Month  after  month  her  sad  eyes  saw  sin's  serpentine 
coils  tighten  about  him,  and  the  abiding  presence  of 
this  living  death,  instead  of  deadening  her  sensibili- 
ties, deepened  them.  Death  came,  but  not  forgetful- 
ness.  Anne  brooded  over  the  terrible  tragedy  until  it 
wellnigh  crazed  her.  Her  sensitive  nature  had  ever 
instinctively  shrunk  from  the  least  publicity.  How 
could  she  break  silence  now,  and  on  such  a  theme? 
How  could  she  make  public  that  shame  whose  dark 
shadow  had  so  long  rested  on  the  threshold  of  her  home 
and  on  her  own  breaking  heart  was  even  resting  now  ? 
But  such  was  her  profound  sense  of  duty  for  the  living, 
her  Christ-like,  compassionate  love  for  the  weak  and 
tempted,  that  she  sublimely  resolved  to  give  to  the 
world,  under  the  forms  of  fiction,  a  faithful  transcript  of 
the  wasted  life  of  Bramwell  Bronte.  It  was  a  costly  sac- 
crifice.  It  caused  the  heart  that  made  it  many  a  bitter 
pang.  Day  after  day  she  sat  at  her  task,  but  her  pen 
never  faltered.  All  the  dark,  repulsive  features  of  sin 
were  sketched  true  to  the  life.  We  may  look  on  this 
as  an  instance  of  morbid  conscience.  Her  sisters 
so  thought,  and  tried  to  dissuade  her  from  her  plan. 
We  may  with  them  pronounce  her  effort  futile,  and 
ascribe  the  failure  to  an  utterly  uncongenial  subject 
selected  through  a  mistaken  sense  of  duty;  we  may 
regret  the  loss,  thereby,,  to  art  of  her  gifts  of  thought 
and  winsome  grace  of  diction ;  yet,  as  "  Wuthering 
Heights"  is  prized  principally  because  it  resounds  with 
the  shrill  war-cry,  the  grand  Marseillaise  of  a  spirit 
fearless,  strong,  and  stormy,  so  "  Wildfell  Hall," 
whose  pages  are  fragrant  with  the  frankincense  of  a 
most  fervid  piety  and  self-forgetting  love;  will  be  cher- 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  333 

ished,  even  regarded  reverently,  as  the  pure  heart- 
offering  of  one  whose  brief,  blameless  life  God  saw  fit 
to  overcast  with  cloud.  The  misconception  and  abuse 
which  her  book  brought  her  never  wrung  from  her 
pained  yet  patient  heart  a  single  complaining  word  in 
reply.  Throughout  her  last  illness  her  study  seemed 
to  be  how  to  fessen  others'  pain  and  hide  her  own. 
She  met  death  with  the  same  calm  front  as  had  her 
sister  five  months  before;  but  while  Emily  in  bleak 
December,  within  the  cold  stone  walls  of  the  parsonage 
she  would  never  leave,  confronted  God's  stern  messen- 
ger with  the  proud  bearing  of  a  plumed  knight,  Anne, 
on  a  bright  May  day,  at  the  sea-side,  her  mind  in 
perfect  peace,  confidingly  fell  asleep,  like  a  tired  child 
in  the  arms  of  its  loving  mother. 

In  mood  almost  prophetic  she  wrote  a  poem  just 
before  "  she  laid  aside  her  pen  and  closed  her  desk  for- 
ever." Though  she  did  not  so  purpose  it,  yet  it  proved 
her  heart's  last  legacy.  We  know  no  more  fitting  epi- 
taph to  be  graven  on  the  marble  that  marks  her  final 
resting-place.  Through  its  touching  pathos  there 
breathes  a  submissive,  holy,  tranquil  trust.  In  its 
conception  we  discover  how 

"  Love  took  up  the  harp  of  Life  and  smote  on  all  its  chords  with 

might, 

Smote  the  chord  of  self,  that  trembling  passed  in  music  out  of 
sight." 

Let  us  read  it  once  again,  and  heed  the  lesson  that  it 

teaches : 

"  I  hoped  that  with  the  brave  and  strong 

My  portioned  task  might  lie ; 
To  toil  amid  the  busy  throng, 
With  purpose  pure  and  high. 


334  VIEWS  ON  VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

"  But  God  has  fixed  another  part, 

And  He  has  fixed  it  well ; 
I  said  so  with  my  bleeding  heart, 
When  first  the  anguish  fell. 

"  Thou,  God,  hast  taken  our  delight, 

Our  treasured  hope,  away  ; 
Thou  bidd'st  us  now  weep  through  the  night, 
And  sorrow  through  the  day. 

"  These  weary  hours  will  not  be  lost, 

These  days  of  misery, 
These  nights  of  darkness,  anguish-tost, 
Can  I  but  turn  to  Thee, 

"  "With  secret  labor  to  sustain 

In  humble  patience  every  blow  ; 
To  gather  fortitude  from  pain, 
And  hope  and  holiness  from  woe. 

"  Thus  let  me  serve  Thee  from  my  heart, 

Whate'er  may  be  my  written  fate  ; 
Whether  thus  early  to  depart, 
Or  yet  awhile  to  wait. 

"  If  Thou  shouldst  bring  me  back  to  life, 

More  humbled  I  should  be, 
More  wise,  more  strengthened  for  the  strife, 
More  apt  to  lean  on  Thee. 

"  Should  death  be  standing  at  the  gate, 

Thus  should  I  keep  my  vow  ; 

But,  Lord  !  whatever  be  my  fate, 

Oh,  let  me  serve  Thee  now  I" 

While  "  The  Professor"  was  going  the  weary  rounds 
of  the  London  publishing  houses  and  meeting  with  re- 
peated rebuffs,  Charlotte  Bronte,  nothing  daunted,  again 
put  pen  to  paper,  and  it  was  not  long  ere  the  praises  of 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  335 

the  unknown  Currer  Bell,  the  author  of  the  glowing 
pages  of  "  Jane  Eyre,"  were  sounding  on  the  lips  of  all 
England.  Two  years  after  its  appearance,  in  October, 
1849,  she  published  "Shirley,"  and  in  1853,  "Villette," 
the  last  and  most  elaborate  of  all  her  works.  "  The 
Professor"  was  incorporated  largely  into  "  Villette," 
and  remained  in  manuscript  until  long  after  her  death. 
"  Jane  Eyre"  has  been  translated  into  nearly  all  the  lan- 
guages of  Europe,  and  has  been  dramatized  for  both  the 
English  and  German  stage.  People  still  flock  to  the 
playhouse  to  be  thrilled  by  its  pathos.  Publishers  have 
not  yet  satisfied  the  popular  demand  for  the  book.  Rarely 
in  any  civilized  country  can  a  hamlet  be  found  where 
hearts  are  not  still  held  spell-bound  by  this  wizard  of 
story.  The  author's  other  works  have  also  everywhere 
been  greeted  with  rapturous  applause.  It  is  now  uni- 
versally conceded  that  her  writings  possess  pre-eminent 
and  permanent  value  and  have  placed  her  fair  fame  be- 
yond any  of  the  accidents  of  time.  As  Charlotte  was 
the  eldest  of  the  three  sisters,  and  possessed  by  far  the 
firmest  health,  her  genius  was  less  immature  and  of  less 
morbid  mood.  In  her  are  found  Emily's  restlessness, 
her  masculine  force  and  fire,  but  they  are  found  tem- 
pered by  a  gentle  loving  trust,  that  pleasantly  reminds 
us  of  the  younger  Anne.  Her  heart  carried  as  heavy 
a  load  of  sorrow  as  theirs,  and  carried  it  as  bravely ; 
her  lyric  soul  as  passionately  longed  for  utterance,  and 
seemed  by  nature  as  peremptorily  denied  it  in  every 
form  but  that  of  fiction. 

The  overruling  Providence  that  thus  turned  into 
this  channel  the  rich  magnificence  of  this  gifted  mind 
served  to  promote  two  greatly-needed  reforms  in  the 


336  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

department  of  Belles-Lettres.  To  the  great  majority 
of  mankind,  travelling  through  the  arid  deserts  of  every- 
day life,  how  refreshing  to  drink  from  the  bubbling 
spring  and  lie  under  the  cool  shade  of  an  oasis  of  fancy ! 
The  worthy  novel  is  an  almoner  of  vigor  to  our  jaded 
minds.  Not  only  does  our  blood  bound  again  healthily 
and  our  minds  regain  their  wonted  elasticity,  but  the 
noble  impulses  of  our  souls  are  quickened,  and  we  pass 
into  a  higher,  holier  life,  thanks  to  the  good  genius 
who,  remembering  us  in  these  our  times  of  need,  touches 
the  heart's  sensibilities  with  the  hand  of  a  skilled  ma- 
gician. 

It  is  the  office  of  the  novelist  to  introduce  us  to  the 
hearts  and  hearth-stones  of  private  life.  The  grave 
questions  mooted  at  council-boards,  in  senate-chambers, 
or  in  the  laboratories  and  libraries  of  the  learned,  the 
grand  and  stirring  incidents  in  national  history,  the 
pomp  and  circumstance  of  war,  are  introduced,  if  at  all, 
but  as  episodes,  or  as  background  on  which  to  paint  with 
intenser  vividness  or  more  charming  grace  the  indi- 
vidualism which  the  story  is  intended  to  body  forth. 
Though  the  novel's  theatre  of  action  is  necessarily  nar- 
rower, less  imposing,  than  that  of  history,  its  very  con- 
centration of  attention  on  some  coming  climax  in  per- 
sonal destiny  multiplies  its  plastic  power  over  the  lives 
of  the  readers  a  thousandfold.  It  has  the  advantage 
even  over  Biography  in  that  it  pictures  only  those 
supreme  moments,  those  pivotal  periods  when  souls  feel 
their  wings  and  fix  their  fates,  and  in  that  over  the 
romance  of  the  fireside  the  colored  calcium  light  of  the 
imagination  is  made  to  shed  an  especial  splendor.  Fic- 
tion has  largely  superseded  every  other  form  of  writing, 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  337 

and  has  already  become  one  of  the  mightiest  of  the 
mental  forces.  When  Charlotte  Bronte  began  her 
career  the  prevailing  novel  was  little  else  than  a  trav- 
esty on  both  nature  and  life,  an  extravaganza,  a  fairy- 
tale. She  was  one  of  the  first  to  introduce  the  spirit  of 
pre-Raphaelitism.  This  was  not  done  with  any  pre- 
concerted purpose  of  reform.  She  was  simply  a  fiery, 
free,  and  fearless  spirit  who  had  felt  deeply,  observed 
acutely,  and  poured  out  without  a  scintilla  of  politic  re- 
serve, and  with  wondrous  gift  of  utterance,  the  thoughts 
that  burned  within  her.  She  was  honest  and  frank  to 
the  core.  She  had  passed  through  a  furnace  of  fire. 
Her  heart  overflowed.  Neither  gold  nor  glory  could 
swerve  her  a  hair's  breadth  from  her  determination  to 
portray  life  precisely  as  she  found  it.  Adverse  criticisms, 
misinterpretations,  sad  lack  of  appreciation,  the  earnest 
entreaty  of  loved  friends,  the  supposed  imperative  de- 
mands of  high  art,  all  failed  to  deter  her  from  speak- 
ing out  the  truth  as  God  gave  her  to  know  the  truth  in 
her  own  inimitable  way.  Hers  was  a  case  of  absolute 
loyalty  to  nature  and  to  self.  A  more  faithful,  a  more 
utterly  undistorted  transcript  of  a  human  soul  can  no- 
where be  found  in  all  literature. 

In  a  letter  to  Mrs.  Gaskell,  alluding  to  a  novel  this 
eminent  author  was  then  writing,  she  remarks,  u  My 
heart  fails  me  already  at  the  thought  of  the  pang  it  will 
have  to  undergo.  And  yet  you  must  follow  the  im- 
pulse of  your  own  inspiration.  If  that  commands  the 
slaying  of  the  victim,  no  bystander  has  the  right  to 
put  out  his  hand  to  stay  the  sacrificial  knife ;  but  I 
hold  you  a  stern  priestess  in  these  matters.7'  Her  pri- 
vate correspondence  abounds  in  expressions  that  voice 


338  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

this  same  spirit  of  reverent  loyalty  to  self.  "  No  mat- 
ter whether  known  or  unknown,  misjudged  or  the  con- 
trary, I  am  resolved  not  to  write  otherwise.  I  shall 
bend  as  my  powers  tend.  The  two  human  beings  who 
understood  me  and  whom  I  understood  are  gone.  I 
have  some  that  love  me  yet,  and  whom  I  love,  without 
expecting  or  having  a  right  to  expect  that  they  shall 
perfectly  understand  me.  I  am  satisfied,  but  I  must 
have  my  own  way  in  the  matter  of  writing.  I  am 
thankful  to  God,  who  gave  me  the  faculty,  and  it  is  to 
me  a  part  of  my  religion  to  defend  this  gift  and  to 
profit  by  its  possession." 

She  was  exceptionally  dutiful  and  devoted  to  her 
father,  would  gladly  sacrifice  her  time,  her  ease,  her 
personal  preferments  in  almost  every  regard,  to  lighten 
his  load  of  care  and  ease  his  pain ;  but  there  was  one 
department  of  her  life  where  even  he  must  not  intrude. 
She  would,  if  his  interests  required  it,  lay  aside  her 
pen,  but,  if  her  conscience  consented  to  her  using  it,  no 
one,  not  even  her  imperiously- willed  father,  was  suf- 
fered to  infringe  upon  its  perfect  freedom.  She  had 
determined  that  Paul  Emanuel  should  never  marry 
Lucy  Snowe,  but  finally  perish  in  a  storm  at  sea.  Her 
father  besought  her  to  give  "  Villette"  a  happier  end- 
ing. But  no;  in  her  musings  the  storm  had  gath- 
ered and  burst  over  the  fated  ship,  and  the  wild  waves' 
requiem  was  ringing  in  her  ears.  Her  imagination 
had  brooded  over  that  last  scene  until  it  was  as  sharply 
outlined  in  her  thought,  as  intensely  real,  as  if  it  had 
been  some  haunting  memory.  She  loved  Paul  Eman- 
uel, for  underneath  his  many  faults  and  foibles,  his 
irascible  restlessness,  there  was  a  heart  grandly  true 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  339 

and  tender.  The  conception  and  portrayal  of  this  fer- 
vid professor  had  been  the  joint  work  of  Charlotte's 
ripened  genius  and  burdened,  breaking  heart.  About 
him  her  thoughts  ever  lingered  lovingly,  perhaps  in 
fond  remembrance  of  certain  privileged  days  in  Belgium, 
when  for  her  the  gates  of  heaven  were  left  ajar.  How 
gladly  she  would  have  rescued  him !  Her  hot  tears  fell, 
but  the  scene  that  had  flashed  upon  her  in  one  of  those 
strangely  creative  moods  impressed  her  as  so  profoundly 
real,  and  so  profoundly  true  to  the  world's  troubled 
life,  that  she  felt  that  to  have  gratified  her  father, 
or  the  reading  public,  or  the  sharp-tongued  critics,  or 
even  the  blind  promptings  of  her  own  sympathies,  she 
would  have  proved  recreant  to  her  trusts.  She  con- 
sented to  throw  over  the  scene  a  thin  veil  of  ambiguity, 
nothing  more.  It  must  stand  substantially  as  she  at 
first  conceived  it,  though  it  was  the  closing  chapter,  the 
climax,  in  what  she  had  looked  upon  as  her  master- 
piece. It  was  in  this  same  novel,  somewhat  toward  its 
close,  after  the  sympathies  of  her  readers,  fallen  under 
the  spell  of  her  genius,  had  been  wrought  up  in  the 
fates  of  her  personages,  that  she  had  the  hardihood  to 
introduce  an  entirely  new  set  of  characters,  to  change 
abruptly  the  whole  current  of  feeling.  No  romancer 
had  ever  before  thus  risked  success.  She  had  clearly 
foreseen  the  danger,  as  she  afterward  frankly  confessed, 
but  she  in  a  sense  felt  it  compulsory  upon  her  to  make 
the  change,  lest  otherwise  she  might  fail  to  paint  to  the 
life,  so  irresistibly  were  the  tides  of  her  being  set 
toward  realism.  Determined  to  have  her  fancies  in  con- 
sonance with  fact,  she  would  never  trust  herself  to  write 
whenever  her  ideas  lost  their  distinctness  or  verisimil- 


340  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

itude.  There  were  times  when  from  this  cause  her 
pen  lay  idle  for  weeks  together.  It  was  her  wont  on 
these  occasions  to  think  about  the  subject  or  scene  in- 
tently night  after  night  Just  before  retiring,  to  study  out 
as  nearly  as  possible  how  it  would  be  or  what  it  was 
like,  until  some  morning  the  mists  would  suddenly  lift 
from  off  the  face  of  her  mental  landscape  and  every 
minutest  object  and  outline  stand  revealed.  Her  pen 
then  seemed  to  picture  what  her  eyes  actually  saw,  so 
rapid  the  strokes,  so  rich  and  realistic  every  touch  and 
tint  on  the  canvas.  This  singular  habit  of  hers  she 
incidentally  alluded  to  in  a  conversation  with  an  opium- 
eater.  He,  while  reading  one  of  the  scenes  in  "  Vil- 
lette,"  in  which  the  effects  of  the  drug  are  described, 
had  been  so  impressed  with  the  truth  and  vividness  of  the 
picture,  that  he  ventured  to  ask  her  whether  she  had 
ever  taken  the  narcotic, and  to  his  astonishment  learned 
that  she  never  had.  He  confesses  himself  unable  to 
account  for  the  phenomenon  on  any  psychological 
grounds,  but  adds,  "  I  am  sure  it  was  so,  because  she 
said  it."  It  may,  however,  be  satisfactorily  explained 
as  the  work  both  of  what  is  now  recognized  as  sympa- 
thetic imagination  and  of  some  unconscious  automatic 
mental  action.  The  first,  Shakspeare  is  supposed  to 
have  called  into  play  in  depicting  as  he  has  so  master- 
fully every  phase  of  a  disordered  mind.  The  second, 
Dr.  Carpenter  argues  in  a  very  able  and  learned  paper, 
constitutes  the  very  basis  of  what  is  known  as  common 
sense.  Charlotte  doubtless  was  ignorant  of  the  men- 
tal laws  under  which  she  worked,  but  in  her  heroic 
determination  to  know  the  truth  and  with  sealed  lips 
to  wait  till  she  found  it  she  unconsciously  fulfilled  the 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  341 

very  conditions  precedent  to  success.  Her  preternatu- 
rally  nervous  temperament  had  given  her  hours  of  deep 
depression  and  of  wild  ecstasy.  A  Coleridge  or  a  De 
Quincey  had  never,  even  in  their  most  unnatural  ex- 
citements, experienced  wider  extremes  of  emotion  than 
this  solitary,  singularly  abstemious  woman  had  passed 
through  amid  the  almost  unbroken  quiet  of  that  bleak 
Haworth  home.  By  combining  what  she  had  read  or 
what  had  been  told  her  as  to  the  effects  of  opium  with 
her  own  turbulent  heart-history,  her  mind  had  in  its 
periods  of  unconscious  working  solved  the  problem 
given  it.  These  hidden  mental  processes  came  to  her 
rescue  in  many  an  emergency  during  the  progress  of 
her  stories,  and  the  revelations  thus  obtained  she  tran- 
scribed with  strict  fidelity  and  placed  implicit  trust  in 
their  truth.  Her  confidence  was  seldom  misplaced, 
because  her  mind  in  these  seasons  worked  without 
trammel,  and  worked  on  material  drawn  largely  from 
her  own  keen,  shrewd  seeing  and  her  own  deeply  spir- 
itual life,  because  in  her  choice  of  subjects  she,  con- 
scious of  her  limitations,  firmly  refused  to  enter  fields 
that  were  unfamiliar,  however  important  or  enticing, 
or  touch  on  topics  that  failed  to  elicit  from  her  a  genu- 
ine sympathetic  response. 

She  believed  that  she  had  no  faculty  to  handle  any 
of  the  topics  of  the  times  or  illustrate  any  scheme  of 
philanthropy,  and  she  accordingly  never  attempted  it, 
though  her  many  gentle  unostentatious  charities  con- 
vince us  that  she  had  deep  sympathy  for  the  burden- 
bowed  and  sorrowing  of  God's  children.  "She  volun- 
tarily and  sincerely  veiled  her  face,"  so  she  writes  to  a 
friend,  "  before  such  a  mighty  subject  as  that  treated  in 


342  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

'  Uncle  Tom's  Cabin/  but  she  believed  that  to  manage 
these  great  matters  rightly  they  must  be  long  and  prac- 
tically studied,  their  bearings  known  intimately  and 
their  evils  felt  genuinely ;  that  they  must  not  be  taken 
up  as  a  trading  speculation."  She  thought  that  Mrs. 
Stowe  must  herself  from  childhood  have  sat  within  the 
blighting  shadow  of  American  slavery;  that  words  of 
indignation  at  sight  of  its  cold  cruelties  must  have  leaped 
from  her  lips  like  swords  from  their  scabbards ;  that 
her  heart  must  have  throbbed  with  profoundest  pity 
witnessing  the  sad  partings  at  the  auction-block  or  lis- 
tening to  the  lash  of  the  overseer  as  it  wrapped  its  bloody 
coils  about  the  bared  backs  of  the  bondmen  in  the 
sweltering  cotton-fields  of  the  South. 

Prompted  by  such  a  spirit  of  stanch  loyalty  to  self 
and  to  truth,  she  naturally  breathed  into  every  page  and 
paragraph  of  her  writings  a  peculiar  personal  charm ; 
her  thoughts  grew  deep  and  clear  as  wells  and  full  of 
heart-beat;  her  vision,  while  singularly  narrow,  was  also 
singularly  searching.  Few  writers  have  ever  discovered 
for  us  such  depths  in  human  nature,  made  their  plots 
and  personages  so  distinctly  real,  pictured  passion  at 
such  white  heat,  followed  the  guidings  of  their  genius 
with  such  fearless  faithfulness  and  fervor,  penned  pas- 
sages so  incisive,  direct,  compact,  so  fresh  and  free,  so 
full  of  force  and  fire.  To  the  great  public  who  knew 
nothing  of  the  guiding  principles  of  her  inner  thought- 
life,  it  was  rightly  a  matter  of  marvel,  how  out  of  such 
narrow  experiences,  such  scant  material,  she  wrought 
works  of  such  transcendent  value.  The  hiding  curtain 
has  been  partially  drawn  aside  from  before  the  world 
of  fact  out  of  which  she  fashioned  her  world  of  fancies. 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  343 

We  now  know  that  Wilson,  the  founder  of  the  clergy- 
men's daughters'  school  at  Corwan  Bridge,  has  with  all 
his  defects  been  by  her  forever  embedded  in  clear  amber 
under  the  sobriquet  of  Brocklehurst.  The  terrible  ex- 
periences of  herself  and  her  sisters  at  his  institution 
have  been  pictured  with  startling  vividness,  though,  as 
she  always  maintained,  without  over-coloring,  in  the 
opening  chapters  of  "Jane  Eyre."  Elsewhere,  Cart- 
wright,  a  former  local  celebrity  of  Yorkshire,  reappears 
in  Robert  Moore ;  Monsieur  Heger,  with  whom  for  a 
time  she  was  associated  on  the  Continent,  in  Paul 
Emanuel;  her  father's  curates,  in  Malone,  Donne,  and 
Sweeting;  her  life-long  friend  Ellen,  in  Caroline  Hel- 
stone ;  her  sister  Emily,  in  Shirley ;  and  herself,  in  Lucy 
Snowe.  Her  sketches  of  Yorkshire  life  and  rugged 
powerful  character,  of  local  manners,  traditions,  and 
scenery,  were,  in  "  Shirley,"  so  vivid  and  true  that  they 
at  last  disclosed  the  secret  of  authorship,  which  till  the 
appearance  of  this  work  she  had  with  most  scrupulous 
care  concealed  even  from  her  publishers.  By  this  her 
firm,  unswerving  adhesion  to  truth,  her  faithful  pic- 
turing of  life  as  she  found  it  among  the  hills  of  York- 
shire, she  unconsciously  uncovered  to  the  reading  public 
a  new  world  full  of  strange  charm. 

While  this  her  intense  realism  saved  her  from  be- 
coming melodramatic  or  sensational,  her  most  eccentric 
characters  impressing  every  one  as  living  verities,  it 
exposed  her  for  a  time  to  the  charge  of  coarseness.  E. 
P.  Whipple,  one  of  the  most  eminent  of  our  American 
critics,  while  charmed  with  her  clear,  distinct,  decisive 
style,  her  freshness,  raciness,  vigor  of  thought,  strongly 
animadverted  in  the  "  North  American  Review"  against 


344  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

her  introduction  of  scenes  of  courtship  full  of  displays 
of  mere  animal  appetite  after  the  manner  of  kangaroos 
and  the  heroes  of  Dryden's  plays  ;  against  the  intro- 
duction of  such  misanthropic  profligates  as  Rochester, 
with  his  profanity,  brutality,  and  slang,  giving  torpedo- 
shocks  to  the  nervous  system;  and  especially  against 
her  dealings  in  moral  paradox,  the  hardihood  of  her 
assaults  upon  the  prejudices  of  proper  people,  her  at- 
tempts to  wound  the  delicacy  of  the  refined,  her  daring 
glances  into  regions  which  acknowledge  the  authority 
of  no  conventional  rules.  He  thinks  the  author  has 
made  the  capital  mistake  of  supposing  that  an  artistic 
representation  of  character  and  manners  is  a  literal  imi- 
tation of  individual  life. 

How  a  critic  so  justly  eminent  for  his  analytic  and 
discriminating  powers  could  have  in  this  instance  so 
mistaken  the  writer's  intent,  the  actual  quality  of  her 
work,  or  the  influence  it  was  fitted  and  destined  to  exert 
over  the  morals  of  private  life,  it  is  wellnigh  impossible 
to  conjecture,  for  a  purer-minded  woman  never  put  pen 
to  paper,  and,  instead  of  her  anywhere  manifesting  the 
least  sympathy  for  anything  coarse  or  low,  no  one  could 
protest  with  more  genuine  earnestness  against  every 
ignoble  impulse,  or  present  to  the  weak  and  tempted 
scenes  and  phases  of  character  so  full  of  high  incentive 
and  of  sustaining  hope.  George  William  Curtis,  equally 
eminent  with  E.  P.  Whipple  in  the  world  of  letters, 
expressed  an  opinion  seven  years  after  directly  antago- 
nistic to  his,  and  in  it  he  has  voiced  the  calmer  and 
more  just  judgment  of  to-day.  He  says,  "Contrasted 
with  the  splendors  of  De  Stael  and  the  lurid  brilliancy 
of  George  Sand,  and  with  all  the  flickering  fading 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  345 

gleams  of  the  female  novelists,  Charlotte  Bronte's 
light  shines  pure  and  planetary.  It  is  by  that  light 
that  the  anxious  voyager  will  head  his  bark,  it  is  to 
that  calm  power  the  literature  of  England  will  long  be 
indebted  for  a  truer  tone  and  the  lives  of  Saxon  women 
for  a  sweeter  inspiration." 

I  have  again  read  "  Jane  Eyre"  for  the  express  pur- 
pose of  ascertaining  whether  there  are  any  just  grounds 
for  Whipple's  adverse  criticisms;  and  I  am  more  sur- 
prised than  ever  at  his  decision.  Jane's  love  for  Roches- 
ter was  natural  and  legitimate,  for  it  was  founded  on 
Rochester's  display  of  the  manly  qualities  of  decision 
and  strength  of  will,  of  keen  intellect,  of  positiveness 
of  temperament,  of  depth  of  feeling.  To  her  he  stood 
in  marked  contrast  with  his  guests.  Rochester,  long 
since  surfeited  with  the  gay,  heartless  masquerading  of 
fashionable  life,  loved  her  for  her  frank,  free,  indepen- 
dent, vigorous,  unconventional  modes  of  thought  and 
expression.  They  were  both  of  intense  and  positive 
temperaments,  and  the  close  retiracy  of  her  life  and  the 
peculiar  circumstances  of  his  could  but  increase  their 
fervor.  Their  sentiments  toward  each  other  were  un- 
questionably pure  and  elevating,  being  in  no  sense 
called  out  by  any  external  attractions,  but  solely  by  in- 
ternal, spiritual  ones.  Rochester's  conduct  toward  Jane 
was  prompted  by  all  the  better  impulses  of  his  nature, 
growing  out  of  his  desire  to  break  away  from  his  past 
courses  and  lead  a  truer,  higher  life.  There  was  some- 
thing in  each  other's  brain  and  heart  deeply  responsive, 
which  ripened  at  last  into  an  abiding  love.  Rochester, 
in  concealing  from  Jane  his  domestic  misfortune  and 
attempting  to  marry  her  while  his  insane  wife  was  still 

16 


346  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

living,  was,  as  I  conceive,  misled  by  a  mistaken  judg- 
ment rather  than  by  any  unworthy  motive.  His  sub- 
sequent conduct  was  full  of  self-sacrificing  heroism  ;  and 
after  fire  had  finally  freed  him,  and  after  fiery  trials 
had  humbled  and  Christianized  his  spirit,  his  little  Jane 
again  found  her  way  back  to  his  heart  and  home,  and 
the  evening  of  their  lives  was  goldened  with  the  glow 
of  fireside  content. 

There  is  one  instance,  and  but  one,  it  is  said,  in  which 
our  artist  attempted  to  create  a  character  without  a  liv- 
ing model.  The  delicate,  petite  Paulina,  who  figures 
in  "  Villette"  as  the  playmate  of  the  boy  Graham,  and 
afterward  as  the  angel  of  his  household,  was  purely  a 
creature  of  the  imagination.  In  her  case  there  was  no 
realistic  basis,  and  the  author  seemed  fearful  lest  there 
was  fatal  lack  of  realistic  warmth  of  color.  She  says 
of  it,  "  I  greatly  apprehend,  however,  that  the  weakest 
character  in  the  book  is  the  one  I  aimed  at  making  the 
most  beautiful ;  and  if  this  be  the  case,  the  fault  lies 
in  its  wanting  the  germ  of  the  real.  I  felt  that  this 
character  lacked  substance.  Union  with  it  too  much 
resembles  the  fate  of  Ixion,  who  was  mated  with  a 
cloud." 

Charlotte  had  the  merit  of  introducing  real  life  into 
fiction  simultaneously  with  Thackeray,  and  her  "  Pro- 
fessor" was  completed  before  George  Eliot,  a  disciple  of 
this  same  school,  took  up  her  pen.  "Jane  Eyre,"  it  has 
been  remarked,  "  was,  like  '  Vanity  Fair/  the  initial 
work  of  a  new  era."  Her  spirit  is  much  more  to  be 
commended  than  Thackeray's,  for  while  he  with  her  has 
introduced  into  story  the  flesh  and  blood,  the  laughter 
and  tears,  the  loves  and  hates  and  hopes,  of  Earth's 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  347 

living  sons  and  daughters  in  place  of  the  impossible 
abstractions  they  found  in  literature  galvanized  into 
mimic  life,  there  was  too  much  of  heartless  raillery  in 
his  tone ;  he  too  keenly  relished  pointing  with  the  fiery 
finger  of  scorn  at  the  faults  and  foibles  of  the  age;  the 
role  of  the  satirist  was  evidently  too  much  to  his  liking. 
Charlotte  looked  with  a  kindlier  eye  and  with  a  larger 
hope.  Her  characters  had  in  them  a  preponderance  of 
good,  which  it  was  her  delight  to  develop  and  bring 
uppermost  at  the  last.  Our  warmest  sympathies  are 
elicited  as  we  see  them  battling  for  a  better  life,  and  we 
are  thereby  inspirited  for  our  own  grim  contests  with 
self  and  sin. 

While  she  in  Helen  Burns  drew  with  perfect  faith- 
fulness the  untidy  and  disorderly  habits  of  her  sister 
Maria,  and  with  inexorable  spirit  visited  her  with  the 
sad  and  natural  consequences  of  her  faults,  she  also 
caused  her  sterling  qualities  to  shine  through,  showed 
her  wide  acquaintance  with  literature,  her  genuine  love 
for  it  and  poetic  appreciation  of  its  excellences,  her 
spirit  of  contrition,  her  patient  uncomplaining  endur- 
ance, and  her  calm  Christian  faith.  Although  on  her 
little  grave  had  already  fallen  the  snows  of  twenty-five 
Decembers,  her  love  for  her  despite  all  her  defects 
bursts  forth  in  undiminished  ardor  in  that  picture  of 
parting  where  Jane  Eyre  steals  up  to  Helen's  room  at 
midnight  to  kiss  her  a  long  good-by,  and  both  lie 
locked  in  each  other's  embrace,  talking  of  heaven,  till 
they  fall  asleep,  one  to  wake  on  earth,  the  other  among 
the  angels. 

Rev.  Robertson,  and  also  her  own  father,  reappear 
in  Helstone  with  a  redeeming  light  thrown  over  their 


348  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

stern  martial  qualities.  She  counts  them  among  those 
many  misplaced  people  in  the  world  who  have  admira- 
ble gifts  for  other  spheres  from  which  some  uncontrol- 
lable circumstance  or  their  own  mistaken  judgment  has 
precluded  them.  She  shows  how  nature  designed  them 
for  Cossacks,  not  priests, — for  the  battle-field,  not  the 
cloister.  There  is,  too,  in  Rochester's  nature  a  noble 
undertone  which  finally  asserts  itself.  Her  works 
leave  in  the  mind  no  rankling  bitterness,  they  prompt 
to  no  railing  accusation ;  they  lead  to  a  Christ-like 
charity,  they  illumine  with  a  Christ-born  hope. 

George  William  Curtis,  in  1855,  in  a  paper  already 
referred  to,  remarked,  "  The  English  fiction  of  the  last 
fifteen  years  has  a  dignity  and  worth  it  never  had  be- 
fore. It  has  acquired  a  seriousness,  a  depth,  an  earnest 
aim  which  was  quite  unknown.  It  has  been  touched 
by  the  tender  humanity  of  the  time.  That  mysterious 
spirit  of  the  age  has  laid  its  finger  upon  it."  The 
writings  of  Charlotte  Bronte  exerted  no  small  influence 
in  effecting  this  great  reform.  We  cannot  overestimate 
the  good  she  thus  unconsciously  accomplished  in  being 
thus  fearlessly  frank  and  true. 

This  same  determination  to  paint  life  as  she  saw  it 
made  her  among  the  first  of  psychological  novelists. 
Loyal  to  her  conception  of  the  real  matters  of  moment, 
she  seldom  endowed  her  heroes  or  heroines  with  beauty 
or  wealth  or  high  rank,  the  development  of  soul-quali- 
ties being  her  prime  purpose.  This  according  of  pre- 
cedence to  the  inner  life  was  a  wide  departure  from  the 
prevailing  method,  doubtless  the  result  of  her  own  heart- 
history,  for  her  breast  had  long  been  the  battle-ground 
of  fiercely  contending  armies.  She  was  naturally  in- 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  349 

tensely  introspective,  and  upon  these  hidden  spiritual 
conflicts,  so  fraught  with  momentous  issues,  her  interest 
had  so  centred,  she  resolved  that  the  mere  accidents  of 
birth  and  of  beauty  should  on  her  canvas  serve,  if  at 
all,  but  as  background  on  which  to  paint  what  she  knew 
best,  felt  most  deeply,  and  believed  of  vital  and  lasting 
value.  Her  novels  were  the  earnest  crying  out  of  a 
grand  soul  shut  up  within  a  body  short,  thin,  and  plain, 
full  of  shrinking  nerves  and  clad  in  rustic  garb ;  of  a 
loving  nature  belied  by  a  constrained  manner  and  by 
a  quaintly  precise  and  formal  speech.  Constitutional 
sensitiveness  and  solitude,  both  forced  and  courted,  to- 
gether with  infirm  health,  had  largely  unfitted  her  to 
relish  the  excitements  of  the  drawing-room  or  to  carry 
off  any  of  its  brilliant  prizes.  The  attempt  was  once 
made  to  lionize  her  in  London,  but  she  proved  too  plain 
and  unpretending  for  hero-worship,  and  although  every 
kind  attention  was  paid  her  during  her  brief  visit  to 
the  "  Big  Babylon,"  she  pined  for  her  lonely  Haworth 
home.  Conscious  that  there  were  other  such  imprisoned 
souls,  she  sought  to  unveil  their  worth,  to  disclose  to  the 
multitude  those  spiritual  excellencies  that  far  transcend 
all  others.  Carrying  out  this  purpose,  she  has  accom- 
plished what  few  have  ever  dared  attempt:  she  has 
denied  many  of  her  principal  personages  nearly  every 
personal  grace,  nearly  every  advantageous  circumstance, 
yet  by  the  magic  of  her  genius  has  drawn  all  hearts 
unto  them,  and  made  them  in  very  deed  the  loved  and 
laurelled  heroes  and  heroines  of  the  hour. 

Charlotte  Bronte,  while  thus  singularly  true  to  life 
and  to  nature,  was  by  no  means  a  mere  daguerro typist, 
contenting  herself  with  penning  the  plain  annals  of 


350  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

a  neighborhood  or  slavishly  copying  such  aspects  of 
hill  and  field  and  sky  as  attracted  her  attention  in  her 
rambles  over  the  moors.  Her  material,  while  realistic, 
was  moulded  by  a  hand  that  was  creative.  She  took 
pains  to  select  the  germs  of  her  characters  and  of  her 
descriptions  from  the  world  of  fact ;  she  took  equal 
pains  to  develop  those  germs  in  strict  accordance  with 
established  law.  In  "  Shirley,"  for  example,  she  incor- 
porated the  cardinal  characteristics  of  her  sister  Emily, 
but  in  giving  to  her  temperament,  her  circumstances 
and  destiny,  a  summer  aspect,  she  necessarily  introduced 
a  wide  circle  of  change,  departing  thus  from  fact,  yet 
not  in  a  single  particular  from  essential  truth.  On 
this,  her  favorite  conception,  she  so  freely  poured  the 
rich  magnificence  of  her  genius,  that  "Shirley"  stands  to 
this  day  one  of  the  most  masterly  pen-portraitures  in 
the  range  of  English  fiction.  She  felt  a  genuine  and 
even  a  passionate  love  for  the  scenery  about  her.  She 
had  studied  with  patient  accuracy  and  had  noted  with 
keenest  sense  every  changing  mood  of  earth  and  sky. 
She  dealt  in  specifics,  summoning  cloud  and  wind  and 
rock  to  enforce  and  vivify  her  thought.  Her  allusions 
to  nature  were  always  felicitous.  Her  "atmospheric 
susceptibility"  was  phenomenal ;  it  was  one  of  the 
prominent  features  of  her  genius.  Yet  over  all  her 
descriptions  of  nature  she  threw  the  robe  of  her  fancy ; 
over  some  the  transforming  might  of  her  imagination ; 
for  she  was  not  alone  an  original  and  acute  observer, 
she  also  regrouped  into  new  scenes  the  lights  and 
shades,  the  lines  and  tints,  which  she  reverently  re- 
ceived as  suggestions  sketched  by  the  pencil  of  a  Di- 
vine artist. 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  351 

"  She/'  as  Bayne  has  remarked,  "  takes  features  here 
and  there,  and,  by  combination,  new-creates  pieces  of 
poetic  conception  distinct  not  only  from  the  general 
texture  of  her  composition,  but,  so  far  as  we  know, 
from  anything  in  the  English  language." 

Swinburne  says  of  one  of  the  passages  in  Louis 
Moore's  diary,  as  given  in  "  Shirley,"  "  Nothing  can 
beat  that ;  no  man  can  match  it ;  it  is  the  first  and  last 
absolute  and  sufficient  and  triumphant  word  ever  to  be 
said  on  the  subject.  It  paints  wind  like  David  Cox 
and  light  like  Turner.  To  find  anything  like  it  in 
verse,  we  must  go  to  the  highest  springs  of  all, — to  Pin- 
dar, or  to  Shelley,  or  to  Hugo."  Miss  Bronte's  person- 
ifications of  thought,  though  not  equal  to  Shelley's,  yet 
stand  pre-eminent  in  the  province  of  story  as  does  his 
in  the  higher  province  of  song.  The  most  striking  of 
these  is  where  Shirley  sees  Nature  a  woman-Titan 
kneeling  before  the  red  hills  in  evening  prayer.  The 
Mermaid,  Temptress-terror  of  the  Northern  seas;  the 
demon  of  loveless  marriage,  masked  Death ;  the  foam- 
women  wantoning  in  the  rocks,  white,  evanescent 
daughters  of  Nereus ;  the  uncared-for  orphan,  Human- 
ity, weeping  in  the  lone  wood,  pitied,  soothed,  won  by 
the  voice  of  Genius,  an  unseen  seraph  of  the  sky,  who, 
after  centuries  shadowed  with  sin,  led  his  spouse,  re- 
deemed, to  upper  bridal  chambers ;  these  pictures,  and 
others  such  as  these,  scattered  throughout  Miss  Bronte's 
writings,  mark  an  imagination  marvellous  in  creative 
power,  Grecian  in  the  chaste  beauty  of  its  conceptions, 
at  times  fiery  and  terrible  as  that  of  the  poet  JEschylus. 

In  "  Jane  Eyre,"  too,  and  also  in  "  Villette,"  we 
chance  upon  lakelets  of  thought,  nestling  here  and 


352  VIEWS  ON    VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

there  amid  the  earth -shadows,  on  whose  waters,  tossed 
with  passion,  there  rests  the  glimmering  splendor  of 
starlight. 

Charlotte  Bronte,  by  her  stanch  individualism  and 
loyalty  to  truth,  her  fearless  freedom  of  thought  and 
utterance,  became  not  only  one  of  the  founders  of  the 
schools  of  realistic  and  of  psychological  romance,  but  a 
most  strenuous  advocate  of  the  doctrine  that  natural 
affection  should  be  an  absolutely  indispensable  pre- 
requisite to  marriage.  She  dwelt  upon  this  theme 
until  its  importance  became,  in  her  judgment,  para- 
mount to  all  others,  and  she  felt  that  it  was  the  one 
gospel  of  duty  and  of  privilege  she  had  been  commis- 
sioned to  proclaim.  She  had  all  that  unquestioning 
conviction  and  consuming  zeal  that  fire  the  hearts  of 
the  world's  reformers  and  are  so  necessary  to  carry 
them  through  to  victory ;  and,  in  consequence,  she 
apparently  fell  into  their  characteristic  error  of  over- 
statement ;  she  certainly  met  their  common  fate  of  mis- 
interpretation and  of  hope  deferred.  She  doubtless 
was  oppressed  with  a  sense  of  the  momentous  issues  at 
stake  in  entering  upon  the  relation  of  husband  and 
wife.  This  union,  unless  love  cement  it,  soon  becomes 
a  bondage  most  abject  and  galling.  Without  affection 
the  family  circle  is  broken,  the  atmosphere  is  shot 
through  with  the  chill  of  death.  Without  its  sweeten- 
ing influences  estrangements  inevitably  arise  as  per- 
sonal defects  and  weaknesses  come  to  light  during  years 
of  hourly  intimacy,  through  the  many  petty  provoca- 
tions of  e very-day  life.  The  children,  those  tenderest 
of  sensitive  plants,  are  quick  to  feel  any  subtile  change 
in  the  spiritual  forces  constantly  emanating  from  the 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  353 

hearts  of  the  household,  however  painstaking  and  per- 
sistent the  efforts  at  repression  and  concealment ;  and 
irreparable  loss  is  by  them  incurred  when  they  are  de- 
prived of  the  ennobling  presence  of  affectionate  self- 
sacrifice.  There  is  withal  most  imminent  peril  of 
transmitting  at  birth  to  their  immortal  natures  tenden- 
cies that  may  at  the  last  scald  their  cheeks  with  tears 
or  freeze  their  hearts  to  ice.  In  the  Scriptures  a  pecu- 
liar sacredness  is  ascribed  to  this  relationship.  Je- 
hovah institutes  and  hallows  it.  It  is  even  selected 
as  a  fitting  symbol  of  Christ's  mystic  union  with  His 
Church,  a  union  cemented  by  a  love  divine. 

Charlotte,  while  profoundly  meditating  on  these 
issues,  temporal  and  eternal,  involved  in  it  and  its  sol- 
emn consecration  in  God's  word,  was  doubtless  equally 
oppressed  with  a  sense  of  the  unthinking,  reckless  haste, 
the  nonchalance,  the  cold,  calculating  selfishness,  the 
mistaken  though  often  well-meant  purpose,  with  some 
one  of  which  young  and  old,  rich  and  poor,  wise  and 
ignorant,  saint  and  sinner,  the  world  over,  assume  the 
awful  responsibilities  of  the  married  state.  She  knew, 
alas !  too  well,  that  multitudes  wed  comparative  stran- 
gers, without  care  of  consequences,  multitudes  more 
marry  from  motives  of  gain,  or  of  pride,  or  of  ambi- 
tion. She  knew  some  were  coaxed,  some  driven,  some 
beguiled  into  wedlock  to  build  up  others'  interests  on 
the  ruins  of  their  own.  She  knew  that  many  by  false 
casuistry  choose  life-partners  solely  to  further  plans  of 
philanthropy  or  to  promote  the  cause  of  Christ.  And 
this  last  misuse  she  felt  no  hesitancy  in  denouncing  as 
downright  desecration. 

Against  this  almost  universal  trespassing  upon  the 

16* 


354  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

sacred  prerogatives  of  the  heart  she  entered  a  brave 
and  burning  protest.  The  thought  that  she,  a  little 
lone  woman,  in  this  act  placed  a  lance  in  rest  to  tilt 
against  a  whole  world  in  arms,  instead  of  affrighting  her 
spirit,  fired  it  till  her  words  were  tipped  with  lambent 
flame.  She  sought  to  expose  the  self-blinding  and  joy- 
destroying  sophistry  of  the  religious  zealot,  the  purse- 
proud  parent,  the  thrifty-minded  lover,  and  the  dazed 
admirer  burning  his  moth- wings  in  the  blaze  of  beauty 
or  of  brilliant  gifts.  She  was  the  pronounced  foe  of 
society's  empty  conventionalities,  sought  to  break  their 
chains,  longed  for  love  to  burn  through  custom,  cant,  and 
caste  and  hallow  with  its  holy  fire  the  inmates  of  every 
human  home.  She  shuddered  at  the  terrible  awakening 
of  those  who  discover  when  too  late  that  there  exists  be- 
tween them  and  their  life-comrades  no  constitutional  con- 
geniality, no  genuine  soul-sympathy,  but  rather  such 
discordance  in  temperament,  in  tastes,  and  in  talents, 
that  only  mutual  forbearance  will  prevent  antipathy ; 
that  not  even  the  most  exceptional  grace  will  render  pos- 
sible anything  better  than  chill  sentiments  of  respect. 

We  can  never  be  too  thankful  that  she  turned  the  full 
splendor  of  her  genius  upon  this  almost  universal  social 
evil  of  marriage  without  love,  for  even  the  best-inten- 
tioned  among  us  are  in  danger  of  falling  under  its  curse 
through  an  unwitting  acceptance  of  the  fatal  fallacy  that 
there  are  no  special  conditions  under  which  alone  love 
lives.  Over  the  human  heart  the  human  will  does  not 
sit  sovereign.  Even  in  the  realm  of  feeling  there  is 
the  reign  of  law.  The  enactments  of  the  Almighty  we 
can  no  more  abrogate  in  this  department  than  in  any 
other  of  his  wide  domain.  The  conditions  which  we 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  355 

are  forced  to  fulfil  to  cause  wood  to  burst  into  flame  are 
no  more  definite  and  fixed  than  those  under  which  our 
hearts  are  fired  with  affection.  Chemists  and  psychol- 
ogists have  each  discovered  in  their  respective  fields 
that  the  elements  in  the  one  of  matter,  in  the  other  of 
mind,  absolutely  refuse  to  unite  except  in  accordance 
with  laws  of  affinity  and  of  proportion  that  are  alike 
immutable  and  mathematically  precise.  Musicians, 
painters,  and  sculptors  in  producing  their  masterpieces 
obey  laws  of  harmony  in  sound,  color,  and  form  no 
more  rigid  than  those  that  prevail  over  human  hearts 
in  the  exercise  of  their  social  functions.  In  only  one 
particular  have  we  the  gift  of  spontaneity.  In  motives 
of  conduct  we  have  perfect  freedom  of  choice,  and  on 
this  fact  is  based  our  moral  accountability.  Within 
a  certain  prescribed  sphere  the  will  is  not  only  free,  but 
is  also  an  original  fountain  of  force ;  without  that  sphere 
it  is  shorn  of  both  its  sovereignty  and  its  strength. 

An  opinion  widely  prevails  that  persons  toward 
whom  we  entertain  sentiments  simply  of  respect  or  of 
admiration  are  certain  to  become,  if  we  so  order  it,  ob- 
jects Of  tender  and  lasting  love.  This  is  an  error  as 
radical  as  it  is  disastrous.  Love  is  awakened  only  after 
thrilling,  spiritual  harmonies  are  sounded  during  some 
intimate  interchange  of  thought  and  feeling.  Few  are 
sufficiently  reflective  or  metaphysical  to  search  for  the 
source  of  that  sweet,  strange  music ;  none  possess  the 
prescience  to  divine  who  among  their  acquaintances 
have  tastes,  temperaments,  and  talents  sufficiently  com- 
plemental  to  their  own  to  awaken  those  subtile  soul- 
symphonies  without  which  love  is  impossible.  That 
each  party  is  in  every  way  worthy  of  the  other's  re- 


356  VIEWS  ON    VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

specr,  or  even  of  admiration,  will  by  no  means  suffice. 
An  incident  in  Charlotte  Bronte's  personal  history  is  a 
case  in  point,  and  doubtless  we  can  each  of  us  furnish 
corroborative  evidence  in  incidents  from  our  own.  She 

remarks  in  a  letter,  "  Could  I  ever  feel  enough  for 

to  accept  of  him  as  a  husband?  Friendship,  gratitude, 
esteem,  I  have;  but  each  moment  he  came  near  me  and 
I  could  see  his  eyes  fastened  on  me,  my  veins  ran  ice. 
Now  that  he  is  away  I  feel  far  more  gently  toward  him ; 
it  is  only  close  by  I  grow  rigid,  stiffening  with  a  strange 
mixture  of  apprehension  and  anger  which  nothing  soft- 
ens but  his  retreat  and  a  perfect  subduing  of  his  manner. 
I  did  not  want  to  be  proud,  nor  intend  to  be,  but  I  was 
forced  to  be  so.  Most  true  it  is  that  we  are  overruled 
by  One  above  us, — that  in  his  hands  our  very  will  is  as 
clay  in  the  hands  of  the  potter." 

Grating  discords  may  come  from  a  union  based  on 
bare  respect;  a  studied  kindness  may,  possibly  a  passion- 
ate love ;  but  which  of  these  will  be  the  issue  only  God 
can  foresee.  To  enter  into  such  a  marriage  is  to  make 
a  leap  into  the  dark  with  the  chances  overwhelmingly 
against  us.  What  shall  be  said  of  the  prospects  of 
those  who  even  neglect  this  precaution  and  follow  the 
promptings  of  pride,  of  avarice,  or  of  ambition? 

So  vital  is  this  truth  which  our  author  teaches,  so  far- 
reaching  in  its  effects,  and,  to  our  shame  be  it  spoken, 
so  almost  universally  disregarded,  no  wonder  that  to 
her  earnest  soul  it  became  the  one  absorbing  subject, 
that  solely  on  its  illustration  and  enforcement  she  was 
willing  to  spend  her  life  and  rest  her  fame. 

Charlotte  in  her  teachings  had  more  especial  refer- 
ence to  English  homes,  and  her  experiences  convinced 


THE  BRONTE   SISTERS.  357 

her  that  only  the  most  vivid  and  vehement  utterances 
ever  could  break  through  that  tough  armor  of  native 
phlegm  and  of  self-satisfied,  obstinate  conservatism 
which  so  encases  English  hearts. 

When  to  the  foregoing  considerations  we  add  another, 
and  perhaps  the  most  important  of  them  all,  that  be- 
hind the  shy  and  reticent  deportment  of  this  lonely 
and  suffering  woman  were  concealed  a  capacity  and  a 
craving  for  affection  which  would  have  ended  either  in 
insanity  or,  what  is  worse,  in  stolid  stoicism,  had  there 
not  been  present  an  exalted  sense  of  duty  and  a  granite 
will,  we  are  prepared  not  only  to  fully  comprehend  her 
course  but  to  award  it  our  highest  commendation. 

Yet  these  volumes  of  hers,  which  we,  reading  as  we 
now  can  between  the  lines,  know  to  be  veritable  his- 
tories of  intensest  heart-hunger,  encountered  many  a 
stinging  criticism  from  the  press.  Even  Harriet  Mar- 
tineau,  one  of  Charlotte's  most  trusted  friends,  caused 
her  deep  pain  directly  after  the  publication  of  "Vil- 
lette,"  by  pointing  out  with  sharp  pen  as  a  notable  blem- 
ish that  all  the  author's  female  characters  in  all  their 
thoughts  were  represented  as  being  full  of  the  one  thing 
— love,  which  should  not  be  held  up  as  the  be-all  and 
the  end-all  of  a  woman's  life.  Perhaps,  as  another  has 
suggested,  she  would  have  less  readily  and  rudely  con- 
demned had  she  known  with  what  self-sacrifice  Char- 
lotte had  but  a  few  weeks  before  set  aside  her  own 
preferences  and  inclinations  and  submitted  her  lot  to 
her  father's  angry  will.  This  strange  parent,  on  his 
daughter's  telling  out  of  her  full  heart  the  story  of  the 
attachment  for  her  of  Mr.  Nicholls,  his  curate,  and  of 
his  offer  of  marriage,  fell  into  a  towering  rage,  "  the 


358  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

veins  on  his  forehead,"  as  she  afterward  related  in  a 
letter,  "starting  up  like  whip-cord  and  his  eyes  sud- 
denly becoming  bloodshot."  She,  apprehensive  of  the 
effects  of  his  passion,  not  on  herself  but  on  him,  made 
haste  to  promise  that  on  the  morrow  Mr.  Nicholls 
should  have  from  her  a  distinct  refusal.  We  know 
how  faithfully  she  kept  her  pledge;  but  at  what  untold 
sacrifice  of  feeling  she  performed  her  filial  duty,  we  can 
never  know.  The  substantial  soundness  of  Miss  Mar- 
tineau's  criticism,  considered  in  itself,  it  would  be  idle 
to  controvert.  Even  Bayne,  one  of  the  most  admiring 
and  sympathetic  of  all  Charlotte's  reviewers,  is  con- 
strained to  pronounce  her  works  an  ovation  of  one  re- 
lentless and  tyrannizing  passion.  Though  this  is  in  a 
measure  true,  yet  it  seems  to  me  that  these  writers  give 
to  the  defect  an  undue  prominence  and  present  it  in  a 
false  light  by  failing  to  account  for  its  origin.  The 
author  is  thus  not  only  robbed  of  her  just  meed  of 
praise,  but  her  readers  are  needlessly  left  exposed  to 
mischievous  influences  which  no  one  would  more  pro- 
foundly regret  than  she.  In  order  to  understand 
rightly  and  be  profited  by  any  great  original  work  of 
fiction  it  is  wellnigh  imperative  that  we  know  both  by 
what  manner  of  person  and  under  what  peculiar  stress 
of  circumstances  its  pages  were  penned.  If  ever  there 
was  a  genius  sent  to  this  planet  with  a  Divine  commis- 
sion to  electrify  society  by  the  promulgation  of  a  prin- 
ciple of  transcendent  moment,  it  can  be  safely  claimed 
that  Charlotte  Bronte  was  thus  sent.  She  possessed  those 
wondrous  gifts  of  vision  and  of  expression,  that  depth  of 
conviction,  that  consuming  zeal,  that  downright  candor 
and  all-conquering  courage,  that  devotion  to  truth  and 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  359 

to  duty,  which  so  distinguished  those  grand  old  Hebrew 
prophets  who  durst  warn  kings  and  people  of  coming 
retribution,  whose  voices  yet  ring  down  the  centuries. 
I  also  detect  in  her  their  marked  limitations,  their  lack 
of  mental  equipoise,  of  philosophic  calm,  of  breadth  of 
view ;  and  I  am  led  to  question  whether,  when  God 
selects  his  special  messengers,  he  does  not  designedly 
choose  from  among  those  very  ones  all  whose  tides  of 
being  flow  vehemently  and  with  resistless  strength 
through  a  single  straitened  channel.  From  them  come 
the  world's  reformers  and  martyrs,  its  devotees  to  art 
and  science,  its  specialists  in  every  department  of  thought 
and  action.  It  is  only  by  combining  the  different- 
colored  rays  that  stream  from  minds  of  different  trans- 
mitting power  that  we  are  able  to  secure  the  stainless 
white  light  of  God's  truth.  Such  is  our  finiteness  that 
when  once  we  begin  to  concentrate  our  attention  and  our 
sympathies  upon  any  one  object  it  grows  daily  in  our 
esteem  until  every  other  is  unduly  dwarfed  before  it  or 
lost  sight  of  altogether ;  and  I  believe  this  wisely  or- 
dered ;  for  not  until  the  apparent  value  of  the  object  is 
thus  disproportionately  enhanced  do  we  become  willing 
to  suffer  for  it,  and,  if  need  be,  to  die  for  it.  Charlotte 
was  by  constitution  of  pronounced  predilection,  of  posi- 
tive opinion,  of  passionate  zeal,  of  penetrating  glance, 
of  powerful  will.  It  was  thus  God  made  her ;  it  was 
thus  he  kept  her  to  the  last  by  a  series  of  most  remark- 
able providences,  causing  her  to  pass  through  ordeal 
after  ordeal  of  purifying  fire.  Consequently,  as  this 
really  vital  social  question  attracted  her  attention,  it  ab- 
solutely absorbed  it.  She  was  a  born  enthusiast.  We 
should  welcome  her  as  such,  and  give  God  thanks,  re- 


3(JO  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

garding  her  faults  simply  as  those  of  her  class,  such  as 
uniformly,  and  I  may  say  necessarily,  accompany  those 
commanding  qualities  that  render  their  possessor  one 
of  the  great  agitating  and  reforming  forces  so  indis- 
pensable to  the  world's  life.  While  we  regret  that  she 
but  incidentally  pictured  any  of  the  higher  forms  of 
love,  that  she  gave  undue  prominence  to  the  blessings 
dispensed  by  the  love  she  depicts,  and  gave  to  that  love 
an  undue  fervor,  we  should  also  keep  in  mind  that  the 
passion  is  always  pure,  and  that  her  characters  are,  with 
rare  exceptions,  of  the  sinewy  and  ardent  Yorkshire 
type,  fitted  for  mightiest  stress  of  emotion ;  and  we 
should  especially  remember  those  incomparable  scenes, 
in  one  of  which  Jane  with  blanched  cheek  and  lacerated 
heart,  yet  with  steadfast  front,  turns  away  from  the 
tempting  sophistry  and  wild  pleading  of  Rochester,  in 
another  from  the  still  subtiler  sophistry  of  the  Rev. 
St.  John  Rivers.  "  The  epic  heroism  of  little  Jane," 
says  an  able  critic,  "  while  it  reaches  the  climax  of  its 
grandeur,  reaches  also  the  height  of  its  practical  value. 
In  the  hour  of  sorest  need  the  figure  of  that  invincible 
girl  may  rise  with  a  look  of  real  and  potent  encourage- 
ment to  steel  many  a  heart  to  defy  the  devil  to  the 
last." 

It  has  been  urged  against  Charlotte  that  she  not  only 
has  failed  to  give  any  representation  of  that  pure  and 
lofty  love  that  allies  us  to  God  and  man,  "  illuminating 
the  universe  with  the  mingled  lights  of  heaven  and 
home,"  but  has  in  St.  John  Rivers  presented  "  a  carica- 
ture which,  while  wondrous  in  execution,  is  utterly 
false." 

To  the  first  part  of  this  accusation  I  reply  that  she 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  361 

has,  on  the  contrary,  left  us  in  the  pages  of  "  Shirley" 
an  admirable  illustration  of  this  highest  love  in  the 
person  of  Cecyl  Hall,  although,  I  regret  to  add,  he  is 
but  incidentally  introduced,  hurriedly  and  imperfectly 
sketched,  and  assigned  an  unimportant  part  in  the  plot; 
to  the  second  I  would  say  that  St.  John  was  no  more 
designed  than  were  the  famous  three  curates  in  the 
opening  chapter  of  this  same  book  to  illustrate  the 
transforming  power  of  Christ's  love,  but  meant  to  stand 
merely  for  that  class  of  religionists  who  have  in  their 
experiences  advanced  no  farther  than  the  seventh  of 
Romans'  bondage  to  the  law,  having  yet  to  learn  of  the 
eighth  of  Komans'  liberty  of  love.  Just  such  a  char- 
acter was  needed  by  her  to  enforce  that  important  truth 
that  even  a  Christian's  most  sacred  consecrations  can 
never  properly  include  a  consent  to  marriage  without 
love,  that  there  are  no  exigencies  or  interests  in  Christ's 
kingdom  demanding  it,  but  that  rather  the  Bible's 
plainest  teachings  pointedly  condemn  such  infringe- 
ment on  the  heart's  prerogatives.  St.  John  deservedly 
went  away  "joyless  and  marble-cold  on  his  high  mis- 
sion ;"  for  whatever  of  love-passion  burned  within  him 
had  been,  under  a  mistaken  judgment  and  by  might  of 
will,  as  effectually  walled  in  against  all  human  approach 
with  desolate  fields  of  arctic  ice  as  is  to-day  the  open 
Polar  Sea. 

Bayne,  in  an  addendum  to  his  paper,  called  out  by 
the  issuance  of  Mrs.  Gaskell's  Biography,  makes  the 
grave  charge  that  Charlotte,  when  she  ceased  to  be  artist 
and  became  woman,  consented  to  marry  one  toward 
whom,  according  to  her  own  express  declaration,  she 
entertained  simply  sentiments  of  respect.  This  is  so 


362  VIEWS  ON  VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

utterly  inconsistent  with  all  she  taught,  so  humiliating 
a  confession  of  weakness,  so  improbable  in  view  of  her 
strength  and  straightforwardness  of  character,  I  am  not 
willing  to  let  it  pass  unchallenged.  I  have  gone  care- 
fully through  Mrs.  Gaskell's  work  for  the  express  pur- 
pose of  finding  the  paragraph  upon  which  this  charge 
is  based,  and,  I  am  glad  to  say,  without  success ;  and 
now  I  ask,  can  it  be  that  she  whose  keenly  sensitive 
nature  grew  rigid  with  mingled  apprehension  and  anger 
at  the  too  near  approach  of  some  acquaintance  "for 
whom,"  she  acknowledges  in  a  letter  already  quoted, 
she  "felt  both  friendship,  gratitude,  and  esteem," 
actually  underwent  such  radical  change  in  tastes  and 
temperament,  and  also  in  principles  cherished  and  ad- 
vocated for  a  lifetime,  as  to  consent  to  wed  one  she  did 
not  love,  one  of  wingless  mind,  painfully  practical, 
prosaic,  and  plodding? 

Some  time  after  her  wedding-day  she  writes  to  a  friend, 
"  My  life  is  different  from  what  it  used  to  be.  May 
God  make  me  thankful  for  it !  I  have  a  good,  kind, 
attached  husband,  and  every  day  my  own  attachment 
to  him  grows  stronger."  Her  marriage-days,  though 
few,  were  cloudless  and  full  of  the  quiet  charm  of  fire- 
side content.  Her  sky,  so  long  curtained  and  storm- 
swept,  was  for  one  brief  hour,  just  before  the  nightfall 
of  death,  lit  with  a  glorious  golden  glow.  To  help  her 
husband  in  his  humble  parochial  duties,  she  with  cheer- 
ful promptness  laid  by  her  pen,  though  to  her  it  had 
been  such  source  of  solace  since  her  sisters  died ;  and 
he,  after  she  had  been  called  to  join  those  sisters  com- 
pany, prompted  by  the  same  spirit  of  affectionate  self- 
sacrifice,  remained  in  the  lonely  parsonage  through 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  363 

many  long  sad  years  in  order  that  her  aged  father  in 
his  last  days  might  not  be  left  companionless. 

The  fact  of  Charlotte's  thus  voluntarily  laying  aside 
her  literary  work  out  of  pure  wifely  devotion  is,  to  me, 
peculiarly  impressive.  An  inscrutable  Providence  has 
stricken  with  the  palsy  of  death  the  hand  and  brain  of 
many  an  inspired  genius  while  in  the  very  midst  of 
some  inimitable  work.  To  Shakspeare  and  Shelley,  to 
Dickens,  Prescott,  and  Buckle,  to  Macaulay  and  Mot- 
ley, precisely  thus  the  summons  came.  The  loss  seems 
irreparable,  for  their  last  productions,  like  the  won- 
drous palace  left  at  day-dawn  by  the  slave-genii  of 
Aladdin  in  their  precipitate  flight  to  the  under-world, 
stand  now  and  must  stand  always,  despite  the  skilled 
attempts  of  literary  adepts  to  complete  them,  as  frag- 
mentary as  they  were  left  by  their  great  projectors. 
God  might  thus  have  called  our  author  hence ;  but  he 
chose  rather  to  grant  her  the  high  privilege,  of  her 
own  free  will,  in  obedience  to  the  joint  behests  of  love 
and  duty,  to  devote  that  hand  and  brain,  which  could 
give  outline  and  tint  as  by  angelic  touch,  to  routine 
parish  duties,  a  class  of  work  for  which  she  was  by 
temperament  and  habit  alike  unfit,  and  for  which,  in 
place  of  that  gladdening  consciousness  of  the  exercise 
of  singular  creative  might  that  had  thus  far  carried  her 
through,  she  must  now  depend  on  the  conscious  nobility 
of  her  heart's  intent  and  on  the  sympathetic  apprecia- 
tion of  him  she  loved.  It  was  left  to  Thackeray,,  as 
editor  of  "Cornhill,"  to  place  on  its  pedestal  her  aban- 
doned, half-chiselled  statue.  With  the  opening  chap- 
ters of  "  Emma"  the  artist  disappears,  but  in  her  stead 
comes  a  noble  type  of  woman.  Deeply  as  we  miss  the 


364  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

uncompleted  portion  of  that  fiction,  we  find  full  com- 
pensation for  its  loss  in  this  unique  attestation  of  a 
wife's  love. 

With  what  an  array  of  plausible  arguments  she 
might  have  defended  herself  had  she  decided  differ- 
ently !  "  These  ignorant,  uncouth  Yorkshire  artisans 
and  their  families,"  she  might  have  urged,  "are  of  too 
stern  stuff  to  be  moulded  by  my  ethereal  powers,  while 
my  extremely  sensitive,  shrinking  nerves  will  but  be 
torn  and  bruised  by  their  rough  handling.  I  cannot 
understand  them,  nor  they  me.  It  will  be  suicidal  to 
defer  to  my  husband's  wish  or  judgment  in  so  vital  a 
concern.  He,  it  is  true,  has  a  high  sense  of  duty, 
but  he  is  not  in  the  least  imaginative,  esteems  but 
lightly  the  rare  gifts  of  a  writer.  My  ideal  world  is 
all  a  blank  to  him.  He  would  feel  no  loss,  nor  does 
he  suppose  any  one  else  wrould,  should  I  close  down 
my  desk  forever.  I  can  do  infinitely  more  good  in  the 
sphere  of  the  imagination  than  in  any  other.  He  is 
intellectually  my  inferior,  and  should  defer  to  me,  not 
I  to  him.  I  will  follow  the  star  of  my  destiny." 
Such  specious  reasoning  did  not  swerve  her  from  her 
better  purpose.  She  was  true  in  this  last  crisis,  as  she 
had  been  in  all  others  through  her  terribly  tempted 
life.  However  we  may  question  the  wisdom  of  such  a 
sacrifice,  we  cannot  but  recognize  and  reverence  even 
that  self-forgetfulness  of  love  that  prompted  her  to 
make  it. 

I  have  called  attention  to  Charlotte's  stanch  loyalty 
to  her  own  individuality  and  her  profound  love  of 
truth.  I  have  endeavored  to  show  how,  through  this 
loyalty  and  love,  her  works  of  fiction  were  naturally 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  365 

and  necessarily  both  realistic  and  psychological ;  and, 
lastly,  how  they  led  her  to  earnestly  advocate  love's 
liberty,  and  still  more  earnestly  to  condemn  any  nup- 
tial bonds  not  formed  of  love's  links.  There  were  two 
other  phases  of  her  character  as  marked  as  these,  and 
which  gave  to  the  productions  of  her  genius  and  to  the 
record  of  her  life  a  priceless  value:  they  were  the 
spirit  of  unflinching  fortitude  and  of  uncompromising 
devotion  to  duty.  Her  pea  seemed  never  to  tire  of 
illustrating  and  urging  the  cultivation  of  these  virtues. 
Her  characters  and  incidents,  her  scenery  and  her  re- 
flections, seem  to  be  ever  permeated  by  their  warmth, 
to  be  vitalized  by  them,  and  often  rendered  strangely 
luminous.  Her  works  are  written  in  a  minor  key. 
Through  the  richest  melodies  of  her  thought  there 
blend  tones  of  touching  sadness.  Her  conceptions, 
though  always  brilliant  and  telling,  are  rarely  born  of 
bright  and  buoyant  mood.  Indeed,  "Villette"  ex- 
cepted,  there  is  rarely  a  flash  or  sparkle,  rarely  even  a 
quiet,  humorous  smile.  Her  readers  often  complain  of 
this.  Yet  there  is  no  weak  repining ;  no  faltering  or 
turning  back  on  the  Plains  of  Indecision  to  catch  one 
more  glimpse  of  a  beloved  Sodom;  no  sinking  under 
life's  burdens ;  no  bitter,  burning,  blinding  tears  over 
the  graves  of  life's  dead  hopes.  There  is,  instead,  a 
patient  submission,  a  devotion  to  duty,  a  victorious 
faith.  "  I  disapprove  everything  Utopian,"  such  are 
her  brave  words.  "  Look  life  in  its  iron  face,  stare 
reality  out  of  its  brassy  countenance.  ...  I  believe,  I 
daily  find  it  proved,  that  we  can  get  nothing  in  this 
world  worth  keeping,  not  so  much  as  a  principle  or  a 
conviction,  except  out  of  purifying  flame  or  through 


366  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

strengthening  peril.  We  err,  we  fall,  we  are  humbled  ; 
then  we  walk  more  carefully.  We  greedily  eat  and 
drink  poison  out  of  the  gilded  cup  of  vice  or  from  the 
beggar's  wallet  of  avarice ;  we  are  sickened,  degraded ; 
everything  good  in  us  rebels  against  us ;  our  souls  rise 
bitterly  indignant  against  our  bodies  ;  there  is  a  period 
of  civil  war ;  if  the  soul  has  strength,  it  conquers  and 
rules  thereafter.  .  .  .  Submission,  courage,  exertion 
when  feasible,  these  seem  to  be  the  weapons  with  which 
we  must  fight  life's  long  battle." 

What  more  practical  lessons  taught,  what  healthier 
tone  found,  in  all  literature?  These  convictions  were 
thrown  into  spirited  drama  in  that  parting  scene  be- 
tween Jane  Eyre  and  Rochester,  and  in  succeeding 
events,  and  afterward  in  that  between  the  same  little 
Jane  and  St.  John  Rivers.  The  memory  of  her  signal 
victories  will  be  a  pole-star,  a  beckoning  hand,  a  voice 
of  cheer  to  many  of  life's  lost  mariners.  In  the  career 
of  Lucy  Snowe,  as  pictured  in  "  Yillette,"  these  same 
sentiments  are  presented  so  repeatedly  and  so  vigor- 
ously that  it  would  seem  impossible  to  overestimate  the 
value  attached  to  them  by  the  earnest  Charlotte.  These 
features  are  especially  interesting  and  significant  from 
the  fact  that  this  book  is  largely  autobiographic,  the 
author  having  in  Lucy  sketched  with  singular  fidelity 
her  own  temperamental  and  intellectual  idiosyncrasies, 
and  in  Lucy's  tempestuous  career  having  disclosed  one 
of  the  most  perilous  periods  in  her  own  personal  his- 
tory. In  fact,  we  need  to  go  to  the  life  of  Charlotte 
Bronte,  rather  than  to  the  products  of  her  pen,  marvel- 
lous and  masterful  though  they  be,  to  find  the  best  em- 
bodiment of  those  grand  stalwart  virtues  of  fortitude 


THE  BRONTE  SISTERS.  367 

and  fidelity.  While  she  is  watching  anxiously  her 
Loved  Emily  each  day  growing  feebler  with  fatal  dis- 
ease, while  her  father  is  threatened  with  blindness  and 
undergoing  a  painful  and  tedious  treatment,  while  her 
bright  brother  Bramwell  is  sinking  deeper  into  dis- 
sipation and  disgrace,  while  "The  Professor,"  her 
first  work  of  fiction,  is  meeting  only  with  repeated  re- 
buff, she,  with  unflinching  nerves,  without  a  moment's 
repining,  resolutely  toils  away  over  the  pages  of  "  Jane 
Eyre."  Between  the  completion  of  the  one  and  the 
commencement  of  the  other  of  these  two  productions 
not  a  day  is  suffered  to  intervene  as  a  respite  from  labor. 
How,  in  the  face  of  these  facts,  can  we  have  the  heart 
to  criticise  the  sombre  hues  on  her  canvas?  The  won- 
der is  she  can  write  at  all.  The  glory  is  that  in  her 
brave  heart  there  is  the  same  self-mastery,  the  same 
grand  triumphing  over  trial,  which,  with  fertile  fancy 
and  with  burning  words,  she  impersonates  in  her  pages. 
This  instance  by  no  means  stands  solitary.  Her 
history  presents  frequent  parallel.  The  first  half  of 
"  Shirley,"  the  brightest  and  healthiest  of  all  her  worl^, 
the  most  charming  of  love-stories,  is  written  while 
Emily  and  Anne  are  fading  before  her  eyes ;  the  last 
half,  after  the  grave  has  forever  closed  over  them  and 
she  is  left  alone.  It  is  written  in  that  same  cold  stone 
parsonage,  now  so  still.  It  is  written  in  that  same 
room,  the  old  try  sting-place  of  the  sisters,  now  so  full 
of  mournful  memories,  with  the  same  window-outlook 
over  weather-beaten  marble  that  has  stood  so  long  in 
sad  sentinel  over  the  sleeping  forms  of  the  village  dead. 
It  is  written  despite  the  affectionate  and  frequent  solici- 
tations of  friends  to  visit  them  and  leave  the  pestilential 


368  VIEWS  ON   VEXED   QUESTIONS. 

air  and  harrowing  associations  of  Ha  worth.  Her  father, 
old  and  feeble  and  bereaved,  needs,  as  she  thinks,  a 
daughter's  constant  care.  Here  is  her  post  of  duty. 
Here  she  shall  stay  till  the  Great  Captain  of  the  Guard 
comes  with  his  relief.  Passages  in  her  letters  clearly 
suggest  that  this  her  resolution  was  not  reached  without 
desperate  battle  against  all  her  natural  inclinations,  and 
was  not  maintained  except  through  the  sterling  temper 
of  her  mind  and  through  her  steadfast  sense  of  duty. 
"  I  can  hardly  tell  you,"  she  writes,  "  how  time  gets  on 
at  Haworth.  There  is  no  event  to  mark  its  progress. 
One  day  resembles  another,  and  all  have  heavy  lifeless 
physiognomies.  I  feel  as  if  we  were  all  buried  here. 
I  long  to  travel,  to  work,  to  live  a  life  of  action.  .  .  . 
The  evils  that  now  and  then  wring  a  groan  from  my 
heart  lie  in  my  position,  not  that  I  am  a  single  woman 
and  likely  to  remain  one,  but  that  I  am  a  lonely  woman 
and  likely  to  be  lonely.  But  it  cannot  be  helped,  and, 
therefore,  imperatively  must  be  borne,  and  borne,  too, 
with  as  few  words  about  it  as  may  be." 

-Constancy  and  devotion  never  find  home  in  a  human 
heart  without  richly  blessing  it.  Through  those  long 
weary  months  that  came  and  went  leaving  their  impress 
on  the  destinies  of  the  inmates  of  the  old  parsonage, 
Charlotte  in  the  hush  of  the  evening,  after  the  lights 
were  out  in  the  house,  while  she  paced  to  and  fro  over 
the  stone  flagging,  rested  her  frail  form,  I  am  privileged 
to  believe,  in  the  sweetly  comforting  illusions  of  fancy, 
against  those  of  her  dear  ones  pillowed  in  a  dreamless 
sleep.  Could  the  veil  have  been  lifted  during  those 
night  vigils,  she  would  not  have  been  found  companion- 
less.  We  can  have  but  faint  conception  of  the  exalted 


THE  BRONTE   SISTERS.  369 

enthusiasm  of  her  joy,  composing  in  those  privileged 
hours  of  thought  those  touching  tributes  of  affection 
that  adorn  her  pages.  To  be  enabled  through  the  en- 
chantments of  fancy  to  place  her  sisters  under  more 
favoring  circumstances  than  befell  their  earthly  lot;  to 
unfold  their  noble  traits  of  character  and  their  rare  in- 
tellectual gifts,  which  were  but  closely-folded  buds  when 
the  frosts  of  death  fell  on  them,  into  perfect  flower  under 
more  propitious  skies,  and  at  last  to  extort  from  the 
world  for  them  its  tardy  praise,  was  a  high  privilege, 
which  her  large  nature  well  knew  how  to  prize,  in- 
creasing a  thousandfold  the  keen  delight  that  the  free 
play  and  the  conscious  magnetism  of  the  imagination 
ever  award  to  true  genius.  While  thus  about  her  heart 
twined  the  tendrils  of  old  loves  and  before  her  rapt 
vision  passed  transfigured  memories  in  shining  apparel, 
she  gained  fresh  courage  to  wait  her  summons  to  join 
the  company  of  her  sisters  on  moors  where  no  chill 
winds  blow  nor  black  frosts  blight  the  heather's  purple 
bloom. 

Two  years  elapse  after  the  publication  of  "Shirley/7 
and  Charlotte  again  places  a  canvas  on  her  easel,  this 
time  to  paint,  with  many  a  heart-pang,  yet  with  most 
conscientious  faithfulness,  a  portrait  of  herself,  and  to 
sketch  in  the  background,  with  all  her  characteristic, 
graphic  power,  those  spiritual  battle-scenes  through 
which,  while  a  resident  of  Brussels,  she  was  called  to 
pass.  This  covered  the  darkest  period  of  her  history. 
Her  soul  here  was  brought  to  crucial  test,  received  its 
baptism  of  fire,  passed  the  turning-point  in  its  destiny, 
grew  through  suffering  and  struggle  into  the  fulness  of 
the  stature  of  Christ.  It  must  have  been  a  terrible 

17 


370  VIEWS  ON    VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

trial  to  her  to  revert  thus  to  those  tempest-tost  days, 
to  live  them  over  again,  as  she  must  have  done  to  be 
able  with  such  condensed  passion  to  picture  them  with 
her  pen.  Had  the  storm  spent  its  fury  and  been 
swept  away,  or  even  had  bits  of  blue  sky  brightened 
in  the  cloud-rifts,  or  the  bird-songs  of  some  new  hope 
burst  out  above  the  distant  mutterings  of  the  thun- 
der, there  might  have  been  a  sacred,  subdued  pleasure 
in  the  retrospect;  but  such  were  not  the  circum- 
stances under  which  Charlotte  now  wrote.  During  the 
two  past  years  she  had  visited  the  "  Big  Babylon," 
and  found  its  gayeties,  excitements,  and  publicity  ill 
suited  to  her  shy  soul,  so  long  schooled  by  sorrow 
and  seclusion.  She  had  gone  back  to  her  desolated 
Haworth  home  oppressed  with  the  thought  that  the 
gates  of  the  bright  and  busy  world  were  shut  behind 
her  and  she  would  never  again  raise  her  hand  to  thrust 
back  the  bolt. 

Her  three  sole  companions  after  her  sisters'  death 
were,  as  she  writes  a  friend,  Solitude,  Remembrance, 
and  Longing.  She  takes  from  her  desk  the  rejected 
manuscript,  whose  leaves,  grown  yellow  during  the 
long  neglect,  are  still  covered  by  the  same  soiled  wrap- 
per on  which  six  publishers  set  six  black  seals  of  con- 
demnation. She  opens  it  with  a  convulsive  sob,  so 
vividly  does  it  recall  and  place  in  sharp  contrast  to  her 
present  loneliness  the  scene  of  herself  and  her  sisters 
sitting  around  the  table,  each  busily  penning  her  own 
rapidly-rising  fancies,  and  in  the  succeeding  evening's 
hush  reading  and  criticising  what  they  have  written. 
She,  however,  has  made  up  her  mind  to  build  out  of 
the  old  story  a  new  one,  to  lift  the  veil,  for  the  encour- 


THE  BRONTE   SISTERS.  371 

agement  and  guidance  of  earth's  foot-sore  and  fainting 
pilgrims,  from  some  of  the  most  sacred  secrets  of  her 
inner  life,  disclosing  the  severe  discipline,  the  painful 
processes  of  growth,  through  which  Providence  has 
called  her  soul  to  pass. 

To  fully  measure  her  fortitude  and  fidelity  to  duty 
we  should  keep  in  mind  how  shy  and  reticent  were  her 
ways,  how  acutely  sensitive  and  despondent  her  tem- 
perament, how  seriously  shattered  at  this  time  her  gen- 
eral health.  We  should  also  note  with  what  unsparing 
and  probably  undue  criticism  she  exposed  the  negative 
weaknesses  as  well  as  more  positive  faults  of  Lucy 
Snowe,  her  second  self, — with  what  keen  analysis  she 
dissects  her  peculiarities  of  disposition  and  her  intel- 
lectual and  moral  traits. 

There  remains  to  us  the  pleasant  task  of  showing  to 
her  the  charity  she  refused  to  show  herself,  of  believing 
that  in  her  anxiety  to  paint  faithfully  every  deformity 
she  has  given  to  defects  of  temperament  a  coloring  due 
only  to  perversities  of  will.  That  scene  in  which  Lucy 
visits  the  confessional  of  an  alien  faith  is  a  chapter  out 
of  her  own  personal  history,  disclosing  to  us  what  emo- 
tional intensity  lay  hidden  under  a  formal  deportment, 
and  how  resistless  and  fraught  with  danger  became  her 
heart's  stress  when  driven  by  months  of  rigorous  re- 
pression into  a  fit  of  blind  frenzy.  Out  of  just  such 
ill-adjusted  lives,  full  of  yearning  and  unrest,  out  of 
just  such  imprisoned  souls,  come  those  great  thoughts 
that  never  die. 

We  should  note  further  with  what  conscientious 
thoroughness  she  handles  the  character  of  the  erratic, 
irascible,  flashing-eyed  Paul  Emanuel,  at  heart  so  sym- 


372  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

pathetic  and  constant,  though  she  still  with  tearful  ten- 
derness recalls  his  prototype  as  one  who  despite  all  his 
defects  had  finally  commanded  her  esteem  and  won  her 
love,  only  to  be  parted  from  her  forever  by  the  hand 
of  some  cruel  fate.  The  temptation  to  throw  over  the 
delinquencies  and  defects  of  Paul  and  Lucy  a  hiding 
mantle  she  resolutely  withstood,  adhering  to  her  pur- 
pose of  showing  how  rude,  drossy  ore  was  finally  refined 
through  fiercest  fires  into  finest  gold. 

Charlotte's  unswerving  devotion  to  duty  appears  also 
in  the  perfection  of  her  work.  No  pressure  of  physical 
or  of  mental  pain  could  induce  her  to  leave  a  sketch  or 
a  metaphor  without  subjecting  it  to  closest  scrutiny. 
There  is  not  a  slovenly  or  immature  line  to  be  found 
in  all  her  works.  Though  every  sentence  of  this  last 
book  "  was  wrung  from  her  as  if  it  had  been  a  drop  of 
blood,  though  its  chapters  were  built  up,  bit  by  bit, 
amid  paroxysms  of  both  physical  and  spiritual  anguish," 
yet  such  was  her  supreme  triumph  over  every  discour- 
agement, such  her  persistent,  painstaking  thorough- 
ness, such  her  wondrous  might  of  mind,  her  gifts  of 
endurance  and  of  utterance,  that  "  Villette"  has  justly 
been  pronounced  "a  great  masterpiece,  destined  to  hold 
its  own  among  the  ripest  and  finest  fruits  of  English 
genius." 

Charlotte's  fortitude  and  fidelity  are  especially  con- 
spicuous from  the  fact  that  there  was  in  her  nature  so 
little  of  the  element  of  hope.  Though  the  gloom  that 
pervades  "  Villette"  and  other  of  her  novels  is  deep,  it 
is  never  despairing  :  while  it  marks  a  life  of  sorrow,  it 
marks  also  a  triumph  of  will  and  of  the  sense  of  duty, 
imparting  to  all  she  wrote  a  noble  grandeur.  While 


THE  BRONTE   SISTERS.  373 

her  thoughts  are  seldom  bright,  they  are  never  bitter. 
Her  conceptions  abound  in  vigorous  masculinity.  Her 
sentences  are  dauntless  battle-cries.  She  knew  no  sur- 
render, but  with  firm  front  she  met  life's  ills  and  mas- 
tered them.  She  proved  herself  competent  to  bear 
without  flinching  even  the  scowl  of  death,  there  was 
in  her  mental  frame- work  so  much  of  the  Bronte  iron 
and  adamant.  One  of  her  late  biographers  tells  us 
that  Mrs.  Gaskell  widely  mistook  her  disposition  in 
this  respect  when  she  asserted  that  she  was  a  victim  of 
secret  terrors  and  of  superstitious  fancies.  It  is  related 
of  her  that  when  a  school-girl  of  fifteen,  at  Roehead, 
she  one  evening  resolutely  left  her  mates  shivering  in 
fright  about  the  fire,  and,  without  any  light,  mounted 
unhesitatingly  to  a  distant  garret  which  a  general  belief 
had  peopled  with  ghosts. 

Her  style  is  stamped  with  this  spirit.'  It  is  rarely, 
if  ever,  buoyant,  yet  is  always  strong,  straightforward, 
intrepid,  determined,  impassioned,  outspoken.  It  im- 
presses us  with  the  idea  of  one  that  has  the  hardihood 
to  break  through  the  trammels  of  form  and  fashion, 
— that  dares  think  aloud  and  plainly  tell  unpleasant 
truths, — that  solemnly,  sternly  looks  at  life.  Never 
was  style  so  moulded  by  the  embodied  thought,  never 
was  thought  so  burnt  into  the  brain.  She  quickens  us 
into  new  life  by  her  fiery,  direct  declarations,  by  her 
impressive  presentations  of  the  possible  achievements 
of  purpose  and  .will.  While  we  are  filled  with  wonder 
at  her  remarkable  powers,  her  almost  miracles  of 
thought,  are  touched  with  sympathy  by  the  sorrow  of 
her  life,  we  are  more  especially  impressed  by  the  hal- 
lowed victories  of  her  unflinching,  all-conquering  will. 


374  VIEWS  ON   VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

Sometimes  the  wish  comes  to  us  that  her  heart,  always 
so  tender  and  true,  had  been  less  tried  and  more  tri- 
umphant; that  her  cheek,  which  had  never  blanched 
with  fear,  had  flushed  with  hope ;  that  her  eye,  with 
glance  so  deep,  so  full  of  love  and  longing,  had  kindled 
with  more  of  glad  sunlight,  had  oftener  caught  the 
glory  of  the  coming  of  the  Lord.  But  no ;  Providence 
had  appointed  that  she  should  develop  u  through  puri- 
fying flame  and  through  strengthening  peril."  That 
she  accepted  her  lot  without  a  murmur  is  the  more 
praiseworthy  from  the  fact  that  she  had  amid  it  all  so 
little  of  the  sustaining  power  of  hope. 

That  she  was  also  so  shy  and  sensitive  and  nervous 
adds  greatly  to  the  fortitude  and  fidelity  she  displayed. 
These  weaknesses  were  so  deeply  ingrained  that  they  sur- 
vived the  desperate  battlings  of  a  lifetime.  They  were  a 
source  of  great  humiliation,  at  times  of  absolute  torture. 
Although  in  her  visits  to  London  she  was  thrown  into 
the  society  of  various  people,  she  never  met  strangers 
without  a  nervous  tremor  to  be  succeeded  the  next  day 
by  severe  headache.  In  striving  to  overcome  it  she  is 
said  to  have  suffered  acutely.  To  illustrate :  at  a  house 
where  she  was  once  visiting,  two  sisters  were  invited  to 
spend  the  evening :  Charlotte  sat  silent  and  constrained 
until  these  guests  commenced  singing  some  Scotch  bal- 
lads, when  with  kindling  eye  and  quivering  lip  in  utter 
self-forgetful  ness  she  rose,  crossed  the  room  to  the  piano, 
and  eagerly  asked  for  song  after  song.  The  sisters 
begged  her  to  come  and  see  them  the  next  morning  and 
they  would  gladly  sing  for  her  as  long  as  she  liked. 
She  thanked  them  heartily,  and  seemed  delighted  at  the 
prospect,  but,  on  reaching  the  house,  the  one  who  accom- 


THE  BRONTE   SISTERS.  375 

panied  her  tells  us  that  Charlotte's  courage  utterly  gave 
way,  and  that  they  walked  some  time  up  and  down  the 
street,  she  upbraiding  herself  all  the  while  for  her  folly, 
and  trying  to  dwell  on  the  sweet  echoes  in  her  memory 
rather  than  on  the  thought  of  a  third  sister  who  would 
have  to  be  faced  if  they  went  in.  On  another  occasion 
while  visiting  a  friend  in  Manchester  she  unexpectedly 
met  a  young  lady  in  the  parlor.  Although  she  was 
gentle  and  sensible,  the  sight  of  her  threw  her  into  a 
nervous  chill.  Her  frame  fairly  shivered  with  the 
shock. 

That  she  was  extremely  sensitive  we  learn  from  a 
passage  in  one  of  her  letters.  "  You  have  been  very 
kind  to  me  of  late/'  she  writes,  "  and  have  spared  me 
those  little  sallies  of  ridicule  which,  owing  to  my  mis- 
erable and  wretched  touchiness  of  character,  used  for- 
merly to  make  me  wince  as  if  I  had  been  touched  by  a 
hot  iron :  things  that  nobody  else  cares  for  enter  into 
my  mind  and  rankle  there  like  venom.  I  know  these 
feelings  are  absurd,  and  therefore  I  try  to  hide  them, 
but  they  only  sting  the  deeper  for  concealment."  Yet 
this  solitary,  delicately-nerved  woman  never  shrank 
from  criticism,  rather  insisted  on  reading  all  adverse 
reviews  of  her  works,  though  they  would  sometimes 
wring  out  tears ;  and  she  thus  insisted  simply  because 
she  thought  they  would  do  her  good.  Her  life  was  a 
constant  martyrdom,  as  she  would  not  accept  any  means 
of  escape  which  in  the  least  jarred  her  moral  sense. 
Harriet  Martineau,  who  was  never  accused  of  indulg- 
ing in  fulsome  eulogy,  remarked  that  "  Charlotte 
Bronte  in  her  vocation  had,  in  addition  to  the  deep 
intuitions  of  a  gifted  woman,  the  strength  of  a  man, 


376  VIEWS   ON    VEXED    QUESTIONS. 

the  patience  of  a  hero,  and  the  conscientiousness  of  a 
saint." 

Her  fortitude  lifted  her  not  only  above  weak  re- 
pining and  bitterness,  but  even  above  a  spirit  of  stern 
stoicism  into  glad  sunlight,  into  love's  largest  liberty. 
Like  sainted  Stephen, — 

"  Looking  upward,  full  of  grace, 
She  prayed,  and  from  a  happy  place 
God's  glory  smote  her  on  the  face." 

Paulina,  unique  among  all  the  author's  personages 
for  her  ethereal,  wraith-like  qualities  and  for  her  being 
purely  a  product  of  the  imagination,  could  have  been 
born  only  out  of  a  courage  that  had  conquered  calm. 
It  is  because  there  is  here  revealed  in  letters  of  living 
light  the  holy  quiet  and  content,  the  even  glad  expec- 
tancy, which  this  Christian  woman  at  the  last  attained, 
I  love  to  recall  the  character  and  career  of  the  petite 
Paulina.  She  is  surrounded  by  the  kindliest  influ- 
ences, for  they  are  essential  to  her  development. 
Fierce  heats  or  driving  storms  would  have  withered  or 
crushed  her.  She  is  one  of  those  spiritual  sensitive- 
plants,  one  of  those  tender  exotics  brought  to  this 
planet  by  some  visiting  angel  from  the  celestial  gardens 
fed  by  dews  and  fanned  by  gentlest  breezes.  She  needed 
and  found  a  sheltered  nook,  a  softened  sky.  Nature 
and  society  sometimes  give  these,  and  are  repaid  by  a 
tender  grace  of  form  and  by  a  delicacy  of  tint  and 
fragrance.  Such  people  are  as  essential  to  society  as 
flowers  to  the  landscape.  The  mountain-peak,  the 
tameless  torrent,  the  oak  on  whose  bole  are  the  scars 
of  centuries,  God  in  his  wisdom  has  associated  with 


THE  BRONTE   SISTERS.  377 

gently  undulating  meadow-land  and  purling  brook  and 
waving  grass-blade  and  silvery  floating  flecks  of  cloud. 
Charlotte  recognized  this,  and  so  ordered  that  Paulina's 
lines  should  fall  in  pleasant  places.  The  artist  who 
conceived  a  Rochester  proved  competent  also  to  con- 
ceive a  Paulina, — a  boulder  and  a  blue-bell, — such  was 
her  width  of  glance,  such  her  world-embracing  sym- 
pathy. 

Her  sense  of  duty  was  so  strong  it  made  her  deaf  to 
every  suggestion  of  envy  and  keenly  alive  to  every  call 
of  friendship.  She  requested  her  publishers  to  delay 
the  issue  of  "  Villette"  till  "Ruth,"  written  by  Mrs. 
Gaskell,  had  fully  found  its  way  into  the  channels  of 
trade.  Such  magnanimity  is  sadly  rare  among  authors. 

She  wrote  to  one  of  her  intimate  friends,  "  I  should 
grieve  to  neglect  or  oppose  your  advice,  and  yet  I  do 
not  feel  it  would  be  right  to  give  Miss  Martineau  up 
entirely.  There  is  in  her  nature  much  that  is  very 
noble;  hundreds  have  forsaken  her,  more,  I  fear,  in 
the  apprehension  that  their  fair  names  may  suffer  if 
seen  in  connection  with  hers  than  from  any  pure  con- 
victions, such  as  you  suggest,  of  harm  consequent  on 
her  fatal  tenets.  With  these  fair-weather  friends  I  can- 
not bear  to  rank ;  and  for  her  sin,  is  it  not  one  of  those 
of  which  God,  and  not  man,  must  judge?"  This  is 
that  liberal-mindedness,  that  heaven-born  charity,  which 
so  often  fell  from  the  lips  and  was  always  carried  out 
in  the  life  of  our  Saviour. 

Such  was  her  sense  of  duty,  the  absorbing  labors  of 
authorship  never  betrayed  her  into  untidy  or  disorderly 
habits  or  led  her  to  neglect  any  of  her  home-cares.  It 
is  said  of  her  that  after  she  had  entered  upon  an  active 


378  VIEWS   ON    VEXED    qUESTIONS. 

literary  career,  after  "  Jane  Eyre"  had  met  success,  she 
did  not  lessen  in  the  least  her  scrupulous  oversight  of 
her  person  or  of  the  parsonage.  Even  on  those  days 
when  her  brain  was  on  fire,  when  her  thoughts  flowed 
fast  and  free,  she  suffered  the  appointments  of  the 
household  to  fall  into  no  neglect,  and  this  is  especially 
noteworthy  from  the  fact  that  her  creative  impulse  was, 
as  she  had  declared  in  her  description  of  Lucy  Snowe, 
"the  most  intractable,  the  most  capricious,  the  most 
maddening  of  masters,  yielding  its  significance  sordidly 
as  though  each  word  were  a  drop  of  the  dark  ichor  of 
its  own  deathless  veins." 

It  was  her  supreme  sense  of  duty  working  in  unison 
with  the  promptings  of  her  new  love  that  determined 
her  to  devote,  as  we  have  already  noted,  to  humble  pa- 
rochial cares  the  closing  months  of  her  life.  We  can- 
not measure  her  temptation,  her  sacrifice,  her  glorious 
triumph,  unless  our  own  thoughts,  too,  are  eagle- 
winged, — unless  our  own  souls  have  thrilled  with  the 
stirring  trumpet-call  of  masterful,  creative  genius.  That 
she  discharged  this  final  trust  with  saintly  fervor  and 
fidelity,  we  have  eloquently  evidenced  to  us  in  the  re- 
markable circumstances  that  attended  her  funeral.  Not 
quite  one  short  year  had  flown  since  with  glad  heart-beat 
she  had  stood  at  the  church  altar.  Now,  with  stilled 
pulse  and  ash'en  cheek,  she,  borne  by  loving  hands, 
within  the  altar-rail  passed  again,  robed  in  wedding 
dress,  the  bride  of  Death.  It  is  told  us  that,  as  but 
one  out  of  each  family  in  the  parish  was  bidden  to  the 
parsonage,  it  became  an  act  of  great  self-denial  in  many 
a  household  to  give  up  to  another  the  precious  privilege 
of  walking  behind  her  bier  to  her  burial.  Those  who 


THE  BRONTE   SISTERS.  379 

had  been  necessarily  excluded  thronged  the  church  and 
the  cemetery  to  catch  one  more  glance  of  her  whom 
they  had  learned  to  love.  There  was  in  that  company 
that  day,  grieving  as  if  her  heart  would  break,  a  youth- 
ful Mary  Magdalen,  more  sinned  against  than  sinning, 
who  had  found  in  Charlotte  a  sympathizing  and  a  help- 
ing sister.  It  is  said  of  her  she  never  ceased  to  mourn. 
There  was  also  a  blind  girl,  who,  prompted  by  the  ten- 
derest  attachment,  had  -besought  those  about  her,  though 
she  lived  four  miles  away,  to  lead  her  along  the  roads 
and  over  the  moor-paths  that  she  might  hear  "Earth  to 
earth,  dust  to  dust/'  as  they  laid  to  rest  one  who  so 
many  times  in  her  distress  had  been  to  her  God's  angel. 
In  this  my  attempted  character-analysis  I  have  en- 
deavored to  gather  under  the  four  cardinal  characteris- 
tics of  supreme  love  of  truth,  of  a  pure  and  pronounced 
individuality,  of  an  unshaken  fortitude,  and,  lastly,  of 
an  unswerving  devotion  to  duty,  the  incidents  and  the 
ideas  which  must  ever  remain  associated  with  the  name 
of  Charlotte  Bronte. 

It  is  to  me  a  very  sad  reflection  that  after  the  plucky 
parson,  whom,  despite  all  his  eccentricities  and  short- 
comings, we  can  but  admire  as  one  of  nature's  stalwarts, 
had  entered  that  silent  city  which  he  had  so  often  looked 
out  upon  from  his  study- window,  his*  patient  armor- 
bearer,  the  husband  of  Charlotte,  should  think  best  to 
go  back  to  Ireland,  that  the  incumbency  of  Ha  worth 
should  be  given  to  a  stranger,  and  that  new  faces  and 
new  modes  of  life  should  break  in  upon  the  many  tender 
associations  that  cluster  about  those  rooms  in  which  once 
so  closely  nestled  the  little  motherless  children,  kindling 


380  VIEWS   ON    VEXED    QU  POTIONS. 

their  quaint  enthusiasm  and  pluming  their  wings  for 
flight,  and  in  which  in  after-years  the  three  sisters 
wrote  their  first  stories,  and  in  the  evening  hush  arm 
in  arm  paced  to  and  fro  in  unchecked  interchange  of 
love  and  longing. 

It  is  to  me  a  reflection  still  more  sad  that  latterly 
there  should  be  so  little  of  sympathetic  appreciation  of 
the  hero-worship  which  has  made  of  Haworth  a  world's 
Mecca,  that  in  order  to  check  the  troublesome  tide  of 
pilgrims  there  should  be  a  studied  removal  of  every 
Bronte  memento  save  the  moors,  the  old  kirk  and  par- 
sonage, and  the  group  of  graves.  But  the  boorishness 
or  piqued  pride  of  a  few  obscure  village  vandals  is 
happily  powerless  to  check  the  world's  enthusiasm,  to 
dim  its  remembrance,  or  in  the  least  to  lessen  its  painful 
sense  of  loss.  Indeed,  I  predict  that  after  time  has 
torn  down  into  shapeless  ruin  the  solid  stone  walls 
within  which  the  Bronte  sisters  once  battled  so  bravely, 
and  has  levelled  and  hidden  with  heath  bloom  their 
last  resting-place,  in  the  world's  imperishable  palace  of 
thought  the  Bronte  apartment  will  take  rank  as  one  of 
memory's  privileged  presence-chambers ;  and  that  in 
seasons  when  faith  falters  and  friends  fail,  when  cares 
oppress  and  disappointments  and  disasters  come  with 
crushing  weight,  pilgrims  will  throng  its  threshold  that 
they  may  stand  in  the  presence  and  feel  the  thrilling 
power  of  its  grand  impersonations  of  Christian  daunt- 
lessness  and  constancy. 


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